


Trust the Dark

by marvel_grl



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), idk if anyone still cares about clintasha, superhero pets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_grl/pseuds/marvel_grl
Summary: [ Post AoU, I've got it covered ;) ]The Age of Ultron is over. The Avengers expect a cool-down period. Clint has a happy family life (or so everyone thinks) and Natasha's alongside Captain America training the new Avenger recruits. What could be wrong?Of course, the super spies can never catch a break. Both Clint and Natasha's past become uncovered along with Fury's plans. They endanger not only their friends and family, but each other as they try to avoid the repercussions of their sins.Clint and Natasha only have each other's trust to hang onto as they venture into the past, the buried, the unknown... the dark.** Note ** I don't want to skirt the Barton family in a common way by like killing off Laura or creating an AU. I'm going to work through this logically in a way that, if we really wanted to, could gloss over the Barton family in AoU. I will also work through the whole Bruce and Natasha catastrophe (in my opinion, of course). I assure you that everything will be thought through as logically as I possibly can in order to make this fit within the MCU. Please don't forget to comment! I appreciate all the time you take to read my story, you don't know how much it means to me :)





	1. • Irony

They only kissed once. Out of all their years of being partners, they had only kissed  _ once _ . Clint remembered how it all went down. It wasn’t a “real” kiss, it was during an undercover mission.

They were posing as a couple, a rich couple at some fancy big-wig dinner. They had been partners for almost 4 years. Natasha wore a simple black dress, but Clint remembered it looked striking with her wavy locks of long red hair. Clint wore a simple tuxedo and (surprisingly) he looked neat and formal. He had allowed Natasha to gel his hair.

He was wolfing down quite informally on some hor d'oeuvres when Natasha suddenly locked her arm with his. “Clint,” she whispered, “I need to seduce him.” She pointed at a plump mustachioed man bellowing with laughter: aka the target.

“Okaaay…” Clint muttered, “and why are you telling me? Just do your thing.”

“He likes women that aren’t single-”

“Weird.”

“- and he doesn’t believe we’re a couple. He said, ‘I might just steal you away from your unsuspecting bland husband-to-be milady!’ And then he laughed.” Her scowl could have burned down a fortress.

Clint said mentally,  _ Bland? _ Out loud he asked, “So what do you suggest we do?” Clint wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

“We have to kiss.”

Clint heard himself say, “Alrighty then,” but inside, he was thinking. He had seen and knew that she gave fake kisses all the time for other undercover missions. But he never had one with her in all those years. Weird. 

She was pulling him in front of the target’s line of sight and Clint felt his hand get sweaty under his glove. Natasha was a blur in front of him, moving with dexterity through the black-tie crowd.

And like lightning, it happened. He was totally unprepared for it and his mouth totally tasted like oregano, but once her lips covered his, he lost all thought. He closed his eyes and fell into the kiss. He knew it was fake, but he felt something there. For the sake of being cliche, he felt a spark. Even after she pulled away and they went through their automatic spy motions, he still felt her heat on his lips.

Throughout the evening, throughout the entire  _ mission _ , he kept telling himself it was fake. It wasn't a real kiss. No way, no how. But he knew he couldn’t fool himself.

He remembered, when Natasha was cleaning her wounds and he was lying on his hotel bed, sore after the mission, Natasha telling him, “You know, you’re a bad kisser.”

That’s what was going through Clint’s mind as the arrow pierced his abdomen. 

 

The irony right? Getting pierced by one of your own arrows. Clint would have chuckled it it wasn't for the wave of pain that flooded his body. He was trained for this, trained to tolerate pain. He'd been through a lot these past few years, what with becoming Loki’s zombie, the alien invasion, Ultron, Nat. 

Nat. 

She was in the distance, screaming his name. His vision was starting to blur and his hearing aid seemed to crackle and pop in his ear.

He knew he was losing blood and was going to pass out,  _ fast _ . Before everything went black, Clint saw his attacker’s face connect with Natasha’s boot and he smiled. 

_ Thud.  _

 

~~~~~

White. Whirring. Tingling. 

_ Am I dead? _

He sniffed. Was that… Purell?

Clint cracked an eye open then immediately closed it when light flooded his vision. “Ow,” he mumbled. 

He tried again, slowly opening both of his eyes. When his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he could finally examine his surroundings. 

Clint was in a clean white room, most likely an infirmary. One entire wall was made of glass, looking out into a hallway. He glanced out another window to notice that it was nighttime. Then he looked down at himself and noticed that he was lying in a machine, one that he recognized. 

“We meet again,” he said to it as it spun around him and infused cells into his wound. The whirring noise was louder than usual, but he tried to ignore it. 

He sighed in relief. He was safe, he was in the Avengers Facility.

Clint looked around again and tried to ignore the weird tingly feeling of the machine healing him.  _ Where’s Nat? _ he thought, quickly glancing around the room. 

Last he knew, she was beating up his assailant. Clint wanted to get out of this contraption, he wanted to go look for her. But before he could do anything, he heard a door open. 

The sound was quite loud and in the direction of the glass wall, where the entrance was.  _ Is it Nat? _ he thought, his heart quickening a bit. Clint looked towards the door but his heart dropped when he saw Tony. 

“How's bird man doing?” Tony said. Clint winced at his loud voice. He didn't look like he was yelling but he sure sounded like it. 

As he got further in the room, Clint realized he was followed by Laura. She caught sight of him lying there and she ran to him, distress written in her face. “Clint!”

“Hey… Laura,” he responded as she arrived at his machine. 

She made a move to embrace him, but then Tony said, “Don't do that!”

Laura froze then backed up a bit. “Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly, blushing red. She looked down at him and at his wound. “So this is what healed you the first time?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, getting a slight headache from everyone talking so loudly. “Can you guys just be a little more quiet?” he whispered. 

“Oh!” Tony exclaimed, ringing in Clint’s ear. “Sorry man, when you guys came in, your hearing aid was busted. I fit in a new one for you but I wasn't too sure about the volume level.”

Clint nodded as Tony came over and adjusted it for him. Wait… He suddenly realized something. “ _ ‘You guys’ _ ?” His blue eyes bored into Tony’s caramel eyes. “Where’s Nat?”

Out of his peripheral vision, Clint saw Laura’s smile waver a bit. Tony answered, “Oh Natasha?” He rolled his eyes, “After we treated her, she was going to leave and finish your mission or whatever.”

“What?!” Clint exclaimed, making a move to sit up. 

Tony pushed him back down. “Jeez, stay  _ still! _ ” He shook his head as Clint lowered back down onto the machine. “Don't worry, Cap convinced her to go get dinner.”

“Oh,” Clint said.  _ Oh,  _ Clint thought.

Tony pressed on the touchscreen connected to the machine. “Well I'll leave you two alone.” He left the room with one last look at the couple before closing the door. 

Laura pulled over a chair so she could sit next to him. “How'd you get hurt this time?”

“Stabbed by my own arrow. The irony right?”

Laura laughed dryly, “Yeah I guess.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “Clint, why can't you just stay at home and enjoy our… life?”

Clint held back a laugh. “Yeah, our ‘life.’ It's not even real.”

Laura sighed and laid her chin on her hands next to Clint’s head. “I know. But we can pretend.”

Clint laughed and turned his head to look at Laura. He gave her a peck then said, “How long has it been since you've been on a mission?”

She groaned a bit, “Too long. Although I guess you could say ‘Operation Farm’ is a mission.”

“You were already on break like two months before the farm got on track, right?”

“Yup. Even though I'm itching to get into action,” she leaned in closer and teased, “I'm getting paid quite well to be your ‘wife.’” She kissed him. 

He laughed, “Yeah, well no one’s paying you to be my girlfriend.” 

After that word came out of his mouth, he felt uncomfortable. For some reason, it felt weird saying it out loud. 

He suddenly remembered Natasha and how their mission wasn't completely done yet. Clint glanced down at the machine. “How long is this going to take?”

 

~~~~~

 

“You're not eating.”

Natasha looked up into Steve’s blue eyes. He looked genuinely concerned, his forehead wrinkled into three perfect lines. She pushed her chicken around with her fork, focusing on it instead of Steve’s eyes. “I can't stop thinking.”

“About what?”

Again, Natasha avoided looking into his eyes. They reminded her too much of someone and she knew she wouldn't be able to hide what she was thinking.

Instead, she decided to divert his attention. “This restaurant. How'd you find it?”

Natasha knew asking Steve anything about the modern world would usually entail him eagerly telling her about what he'd learned so far even though it was just a chain restaurant, found pretty much everywhere. Just as she’d predicted, his eyes lit up. 

“I didn't really find it, but Clint introduced it to me.”

Natasha kept her face straight. Great, there was no escaping him, was there?

Steve continued, “He wanted to go have a drink and a few snacks at the bar and watch some football, so I came along. I guess the old fashioned decorations made me feel… at home.”

Natasha drank her glass of water as she glanced around at the memorabilia hanging on the walls of the establishment. There were framed pictures of World War II planes, signed baseballs, footballs. Very American. 

“It's your turn,” Steve said, sitting forward. 

Natasha turned and her eyes locked onto his. Blue on grey. She sighed and tucked an unruly curl of crimson behind her ear. “Clint,” she said quietly. “I'm thinking about Clint.”

Steve nodded, leaning back in his seat. “It's normal to worry about our partners-”

“And how stupid he is.”

“-ookaay.” Steve chuckled a little, “Why? What’d Barton do now?”

Natasha stabbed her grilled chicken. “He shouldn't have been fighting that Hydra agent alone. I was  _ right  _ behind him.”

“Well, he's ok. He's fine now. Tony’s got his… healing machine… fixing Clint up right now.”

“I know  _ that.  _ It's just that our mission isn't complete.”

“Hmm. And you can't wait to get out of here and finish it, huh?”

Natasha put the chicken in her mouth and chewed to stop herself from answering the question. Steve waited for her, his eyes still fixated on her, an eyebrow raised. When she finished, she answered, “No. Fury called it off.”

“Fury still calling the shots?”

“Yes. Someone’s gotta take down Hydra.” Natasha thought to herself,  _ And be manipulative.  _ Fury never hesitated to use his agents when he had the opportunity. 

And this definitely included staging situations that would evoke empathy. 

Natasha thought back to Clint. “I'm full,” she suddenly said, “let's go back.”

Steve nodded, “Alright Natasha.”

They left, each paying for their own portion (Natasha refused Steve’s offer to pay for her meal). Together they walked into the Avengers’ new base. Steve said he had to go check on something so Natasha walked by herself to the infirmary.

Looking through the windows, she spotted Clint lying there with… Laura by his side. Something pulled at her heart and she coughed in an attempt to rid herself of the feeling. Clint was talking to Laura about something as the Cradle whirled around his body. Natasha realized that she had been staring at them for two minutes so she shook her head and walked down the hallway.

Someone suddenly stepped out in front of her. Natasha’s body tensed up and prepared to take whoever it was down when she realized that it was Wanda. Natasha relaxed from her attack position but her body was still tense. Honestly, she still didn’t trust that witch.

“Hello Agent Romanoff,” Wanda said, smiling a little.

Natasha nodded. “Wanda. Something you need?”

Wanda glanced at Clint in the infirmary. “Is he ok?”

“Yes, he’s handled worse.” Natasha was itching to walk out of here where Clint could spot her. Wanda didn’t seem like she wanted to budge though.

Wanda nodded. “I just want to make sure he is ok. He and my brother… they became friends I believe,” her voice cracked a little.

Natasha looked at her and simply nodded. “Why don’t you go rest? It’s late.”

Finally Wanda agreed and stepped out of Natasha’s path. Just as Natasha was about to brisk down to the training room, someone called her, “Natasha?”

She knew that voice all too well. Natasha slowly turned around to see Laura poking her head out of the infirmary door. “Yes?” Natasha answered, hiding the exasperation from her voice.

“Clint wants to see you.”

“Can’t he see me right now?” Natasha glanced at him through the glass and he waved at her, a stupid smile on his face. She forced herself to keep her face straight.

“Well, yeah, but he wants to talk to you too.” Laura pulled Natasha into the room.

As they approached Clint, Natasha randomly felt like she hated Laura, even though she had no reason to. Laura was a perfectly capable agent; skilled, experienced. Furthermore she was nice and sweet with no… red in her ledger. She was good for Clint.

“Nat I see what you were trying to do,” Clint said with a smirk. 

Natasha looked down at him.

“You didn’t want to look like you were worried about me,” he teased, making a fake pouty face.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Clint, what you did today was outrageously  _ stupid _ . Don’t you  _ ever _ do that again.”

“What exactly did I do?”

“We only had one shot to take him down. He was the last one there and you just  _ had _ to go up to him without waiting for me.”

“Hey, in my defense, I thought the dude was  _ dead _ . I mean, my arrow was sticking out of his chest for crying out loud!” Clint rolled his eyes.

“Hydra agents don’t go down that easily Clint, you know that as well as I do.”

“Whatever, he’s dead now isn’t he?”

Natasha nodded curtly. “Yes. Fury sent another team out to finish our mission.” She glanced at Laura who looked extremely uncomfortable listening in on their conversation. “Are you going home after the Cradle’s done?” Natasha said in a softer voice, catching as she said “home.”. She had gotten used to Clint’s home being his shoddy apartment in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, but now it was a farm with Laura. Even though it was a cover home, it was still weird.

Clint looked up at Laura and shrugged. “If I’m allowed to go, yeah I guess. I don’t have anywhere else to go really.”

Nat nodded, thinking,  _ You have your apartment still. _ When Fury briefed Clint on Operation Farm, Clint had given Natasha the keys to his apartment.

_ “Here, take ‘em. Watch my apartment for me.” _ He had smiled his goofy smile as she gripped the keys so hard they dug into her skin.   
_ “I already have a copy of them,” _ she had said.

_ “Ya, well not the official copy! You have a spare, and now you have the real keys too. A full set.” _ He had looked at her with those blue eyes and grinned,  _ “Take care of my home ‘cause you’re the only one I can trust with it right now.” _

Natasha blinked out of her flashback and absentmindedly patted her pocket where those very keys lay. She always kept them on her at all times. “Well, I guess I’ll go home too.”

She said goodnight to Clint and Laura then headed off to the garage. It was almost midnight, but she didn’t feel like staying at the facility tonight. She wanted to drive all the way to Bed-Stuy and stay at her current home… Clint’s previous home.

 

The Cradle beeped three staccato notes and Clint looked down at it as it stopped whirring. “It’s all done!” he exclaimed, sitting up.

Laura examined his abdomen. “I don’t see a wound. I guess you’re all good!” She smiled up at him.

“Yup,” Clint said, ignoring the sting in his side.

Suddenly, Tony ran in and screamed, “Stop!” He grabbed a roll of bandages and handed them to Clint. “Wrap these around your stomach-area. It’s supposed to keep your wound stable or something like that. I don’t know, bio’s not my area of expertise.” Tony nodded to Laura, “Goodnight Mrs. Barton.” He turned to Clint, “Night Clint.”

“Thanks and bye,” Clint called out.

“Let’s get you home,” Laura smiled and together, they walked out to the hangar, where they would take a jet back home to Iowa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my Clintasha Fanfic! Ahhhh, I'm sooo excited to post this!! This was originally posted on Wattpad btw, so I'm going to catch this up to what's on Wattpad ASAP! I honestly have no idea if anyone still reads about Clintasha, but why not post it here too XP
> 
> Ok, it may seem a bit confusing right now with all the "Operation Farm" and stuff, but I'm trying to slowly reveal how I'm going to twist what happened in Age of Ultron... You all know what I'm talking about, especially if you're Clintasha fans >.<
> 
> Anyways, thank you again for reading! I appreciate it a lot, please don't forget to comment! Sorry if there are typos, point them out and I'll fix 'em!
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


	2. • Staged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint goes back to Iowa and remembers things

Clint turned over, pulling his arm away from his “wife.” She was fast asleep, he could easily tell that from the steady up-downs of her chest. They were alone in the house. 

Laura and Clint came home late and they both fell asleep the moment they reached their bed, around 2 in the morning. It was now 3 in the morning. 

Clint stared up at the ceiling. Even in the dark he could make out the bumps and cracks. He sighed.

Clint honestly didn't like Operation Farm. It made him feel super old, that's for sure. Suddenly gaining a wife and two/three kids will do that to you.

After the Invasion of New York, Clint was obviously traumatized from being Loki’s zombie. He used to have nightmares every night about it. It didn't make it any easier to know that Coulson was killed by Loki. 

Clint still blamed himself for it. 

But Natasha got him through it. She talked to him, she stayed up with him all those nights in his apartment when his nightmares wouldn't let him go back to sleep. They often just sat in comfortable silence, Natasha sitting on the recliner, Clint lying on the couch.

Clint still had nightmares now, but not as often and not as vivid as they used to be. Although tonight, he wasn't keen on sleeping. After getting stabbed today and having that weird flashback, he would most likely have a nightmare. 

So instead, Clint’s mind wandered towards Operation Farm.

It started a little after SHIELD fell. It was torture, not knowing who was who. Clint had to admit, he had a small thought about Natasha being Hydra but he immediately kicked that out of his mind as soon as it reared its ugly face. 

He had been watching her at the court testimonials on his TV. Clint remembered thinking about how he preferred her curls to her straight hair, and then he noticed her necklace. He had given it to her. Clint smiled and just then, someone knocked on his apartment door.

He sighed loudly and walked over. Clint opened the door and there she was. “Nat,” he managed to say breathlessly before she lurched forward and embraced him. He hugged her back, hard. He inhaled her scent, which smelled like freshly rained-on grass. 

“I just saw you on tv,” he muttered against her hair.

“You're not watching the live version,” she said, almost exasperatedly, but then she gave a short laugh and Clint’s heart soared.

She was ok. 

They sat on the couch together and Natasha told him about everything. 

“I just… thought I was doing the right thing.” Natasha leaned back and looked up. Her hair was starting to curl again because of the drizzle that had started outside. “I thought when you brought me into SHIELD, I would be working for the good people. I wouldn't be killing the innocent. But who knows anymore?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah I get it Nat. Well, I guess we’ll just follow Fury’s lead?”

Natasha blinked. “Yeah. If we want to take down Hydra, we follow his lead.” She looked at Clint and he swore his heart stopped. “I told Steve this too.”

“Oh…?”

She smiled slightly, her eyes unfocused and said, “I’m glad he made it out of this mess.”

Clint nodded and looked out the window at the increasing rain. “Cap’s a great man.”

Natasha nodded. After a pause, she said, “Clint?”

“Yup.”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yup.”

Clint stood up and headed into his room, “Just let me clean up in here.”

Natasha didn't even argue about taking his room. She was exhausted, drained, and sore. She just wanted a nice warm bed and just thinking about lying in Clint’s made her sleepy.

An hour later, Clint was drinking a beer and watching basketball when his SHIELD communicator went off. It was his important one, the one with a direct line to Fury. Clint liked to call it his “Fury Fone.”

He glanced at Natasha sleeping in his room before he picked it up. Clint looked at the electronic screen which displayed a message in Morse code. He rubbed his eyes, sighing when he realized he was a little rusty with Morse code. 

After about 20 minutes and with the aid of pen and paper, Clint figured out that the message was some address in the city.

The address led Clint to an abandoned warehouse about half an hour later. Clint had thought that maybe this was a Hydra trap, but then he realized that the chances of Hydra hacking into the “Fury Fone” was slim to none.

He opened the door to the warehouse and stepped in. Even in the dim setting sunlight, Clint could see dust particles floating about his face. He coughed out the musty air he breathed in. Clint’s eyes darted around the room.

They landed on a shadowy figure standing in the middle of the warehouse. Clint approached it and when he was within two feet, the lighting shifted as his eyes adjusted and he saw the person’s face. 

“Director,” Clint greeted, nodding his head.

Fury was wearing sunglasses instead of his oh-so-familiar eye-patch. He was also dressed in civilian attire, which was weird to Clint. 

“Heard you died,” Clint stated bluntly. 

“Natasha told you?”

“Everything.”

“Good. I don't have to catch you up.” Fury pulled a manila folder out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Clint. 

Clint took the folder as he muttered, “Big pocket.”

“Listen Barton,” Fury said, his voice sharp. “I need you to pay attention.”

Clint's head snapped up and he stared at Fury. “Yes sir?”

“Don't read what's in this folder ‘til you're home. Read it all very carefully and follow it closely.”

“Yes sir.” Clint tucked the folder under his arm. 

Fury nodded and turned around, walking into the shadows. Clint shrugged and left the warehouse, got into his car, and drove home. As he stepped into his apartment, Clint thought,  _ It’s probably a mission to take down some Hydra bases, hopefully with Nat. _

But when he opened the folder, his heart sank. It was essentially an undercover mission. A  _ loooong _ undercover mission. 

The brief said that Fury knew things were going to get tough for the Avengers so they needed an extra push, just like last time.

This time, the “push” was going to be the Barton family.

Fury set up a farm house in the safety and peace of Iowa’s countryside, complete with a loving wife, Agent 24, and two children, agents in training.

The reason for this staged family was merely to give the Avengers an even stronger motive to win the upcoming threat, whatever it was. Clint had no idea how Fury knew but he knew. 

Nothing said motivation like a team member with a family. 

When Natasha woke up, Clint told her what he had to do. He didn't know how long it would be, but he had to leave as soon as possible to get acquainted with his new “family.” That day, Clint gave her his keys before he left. 

And when he met Laura, she was cute, sweet, bubbly, and an amazing undercover agent. He was slightly attracted to her, but no one could compare to Natasha. 

But then he remembered what happened a few weeks after the invasion of New York. 

They had been standing outside his apartment building. It was raining, but Natasha was holding an umbrella for them. 

“Natasha wait,” Clint had blurted out, touching her arm to stop her from closing the umbrella. 

“Yeah?” She turned to him. 

He couldn't stop himself. He told her that he had feelings for her for a while now and then asked if she felt the same. 

Clint will always remember what happened next with sharp clarity. 

She blinked at him, her eyes wide and darting across his face. They were quiet for an agonizing moment, Clint holding his breath.

Then Natasha said, “Clint, I'm sorry but I don't feel that way.” And she left, taking the umbrella with her. 

She left Clint standing alone on the street with the sharp sound of rain enveloping him.

He had stood there for ten minutes before he walked inside, silent and drenched.

That was why he became closer to Laura, his pretend wife, his real-life girlfriend.

That was why he didn't try again after knowing about Natasha and Banner. 

That was why he was lying next to Laura right now, instead of hanging out with Natasha in his apartment. 

Operation Farm. 

It sure made him feel old. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was Chapter 2, more focused on Clint! I hope that the flashbacks weren't too confusing. If they were, please let me know and I'll try to explain them to you!
> 
> Again, thank you for reading! Please vote and comment, I love reading and replying to your comments! ^.^ Thanks sooo much! Chapter 3 will be following Nat ;)
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


	3. • Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha is in New York and makes a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so this is clear, my chapters are pre-written, up to Chapter 15. That's why I'm updating like rapid-fire lol - BUT after chapter 15, please please don't expect super speedy or timely updates. I'm a full-time student and this year is going to KILL me I can feel it haha. But rest assured, I'm working on it!!! Enjoy this fanfiction as it unfolds everyone! I'm also really surprised at the amount of feedback I've already gotten woW i love you all thank you!! <3

Natasha’s eyes shot open. Her breathing was shallow and she felt extremely hot under the covers. Kicking off the bed sheets, she felt air rush in and cool her sweaty skin.

She sighed, running her hand through her short curly red hair that was splayed across the pillow. Glancing to the alarm clock on the end table, she saw that it was about 4 in the morning. The drive from the new Avengers facility in upstate New York to Bed-Stuy took about 2 hours, so she had only been asleep for only a little more than an hour.

Only an hour and she was already having nightmares.

Natasha was used to them. She had them occasionally and she was used to the shortened hours of sleep.

However, they started becoming more common ever since Clint left for Operation Farm. Natasha didn’t get to spend much time with him and, even though she didn’t want to admit it sometimes, he was the reason why she didn’t have nightmares.

Natasha started to drift into memories of her partner and their missions, but she quickly shook herself out of it.

_ Natalia, stop it,  _ she chided herself.  _ Why do you keep thinking about him? You’re not on a mission with him right now and he has his own responsibilities. _

But despite her mental walls, she couldn’t stop thinking about how she wanted to drive all the way to Iowa and see Clint.

She couldn’t stop herself from remembering what happened on that rainy night, a few weeks after the invasion of New York.

She remembered the soft warmth of Clint’s calloused hands lightly touching her arm.

She remembered his bright blue eyes looking down as he poured his heart out to her.

She remembered the look on his face when she tore his heart out by saying that she didn’t care for him the same way.

And the worst part?

She had lied.

She told herself she didn’t feel the same way, or at least not with the same fervor and passion she had seen in Clint’s eyes. But she knew that she did care about him, maybe a little more than if they were just best friends.

But after her time in Russia with the KGB, with Alexei…

She had to distance herself. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she lost him because he was tied up with her, and she knew for a fact that she did not want to hurt him.

Natasha knew that anyone getting involved with her always resulted in a lot of pain.

So yeah, she pushed him away so that she would worry less and he would worry less.

But did she really feel any safer? She kept telling herself that yes, she did.

Then why did she have the urge to drive to Iowa?

Natasha sighed loudly and sat up in bed. She pulled the curtains open and stared at the city lights blinking back at her.

She glanced back at the bed longingly, the tousled purple sheets calling her to fall back into them. But she knew she couldn’t go back to sleep.

Natasha slipped on her boots, pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and headed out. She decided to go for a walk.

The streets were not so busy, mostly filled with tired young people heading home after a night out. Natasha walked past them, her head down.

After a while, she stopped in front of an apartment building. It was hers, in Midtown. It was provided by SHIELD under a fake name so that she could live comfortably with no risk of being tracked down and attacked.

Natasha entered her apartment and turned on the lights. The dark room was illuminated to reveal a clean, organized modern apartment.

It was very nice and pretty high class, but it often felt cold to her. Maybe it was because she didn’t keep a lot of things in her apartment. The white walls were devoid of decorations except a mirror hanging on the hallway wall.

There was no clutter, nothing to signify that Natasha Romanoff lived here.

She walked down the hallway and into her room, equally as barren as the other room. Her closet was bare; she had taken her clothes and left them in Clint’s apartment. There was a secret compartment in the back of her closet for her spare suit and weapons, but that was about it. Natasha sat on the neatly made bed and stared out the giant window overlooking the city, similar to the one Clint had in his room.

As she looked out across the city skyline, Natasha spotted a black cat pawing the window.

She sighed. Natasha was familiar with this cat. She often saw it lounging around her apartment so one day, she fed it some tuna. From then on, it always followed her around.

Natasha walked up to the window and stared at the cat. “You want in, huh?”

The cat blinked at her with its pale yellow eyes that looked like two moons.

It seemed like she’d have to let it in… Natasha stood up and opened the window. The cat jumped in gracefully, landing on the hardwood floor beside Natasha’s feet. She closed the window then picked up the cat.

Natasha sat on the windowsill and sat the cat on her lap, stroking its soft head. She sighed out heavily. The cat leaned against her chest. Natasha looked down at it. “You know, I'm not going to be living here for a while. You going to miss me?”

The cat  _ mewed _ softly, gently pawing Natasha’s hand. Natasha hummed in her throat. “I know how that feels.” 

She kept petting the cat, pondering for a few moments. “You know what, cat?” Natasha started softly, “you're lonely, I’m alone. Wanna come back with me?”

Natasha looked down for an answer and was met with the cat purring as it rubbed its head against her. 

Natasha smiled. “Ok. Let's go.” 

She set the cat on the ground and together they walked out of the apartment and into the streets. 

Dawn was approaching as the summer sun rose to the east. The early sun cast a pale yellow and pink glow over the skyscrapers and apartments. Natasha and the black cat trod along towards Bed-Stuy.

They eventually came to Clint’s apartment building as the sun was lighting up the sky with a light blue. 

When Natasha entered his apartment, she realized why she preferred to stay here. 

All of his rooms  _ screamed,  _ “Clint was here!”

The kitchen was messy, even after she’d cleaned it. There were a few coffee stains on the counter that she hadn’t been able to scrub off. She had also found remnants of a broken coffee mug.

In the living room, his sweatshirts and tees were strewn all over the couch and floor. There once used to be a pair of his underpants hanging on the lamp. Natasha had put the underpants in the wash but kept everything else. Yeah, she knew it was weird, but she didn’t want to move his things.

There was a dart board hung on the wall opposite the TV. Plugged into the TV in a tangle of wires were a Playstation 3 and an XBOX 360, the controllers resting on the coffee table. Clint’s purple Converses were at the foot of the couch, just where he last left them.

There were also arrows stashed all over the place. Natasha kept finding them in the most obscure parts of the apartment like in his bathroom closet or under his pillow.

Last but not least, there were a few remaining dog toys on the ground and an empty food bowl. Clint had taken his dog with him to Iowa along with his dog’s favorite toys.

Natasha stepped forward into the living room and collapsed heavily on the couch. The cat made a beeline for the dog toys, sniffing one after the other.

“Those are Lucky’s,” Natasha told the cat, watching it walk towards her with a plastic bone in its jaws.

The cat jumped up beside Natasha on the couch and started playing with the toy. Natasha reached over and pet the cat’s head, smiling slightly.

She had a sudden urge to contact Clint. He was probably asleep, but it didn’t matter. Natasha took her phone out of her pocket and texted him,  _ I brought a cat to your apartment. _

She smiled slightly, thinking about his reaction as she slid her phone into her pocket.

Clint would probably answer when he woke up. Unless he was too preoccupied with Laura…

Natasha felt an odd pang in her heart, causing her to inhale sharply. She looked down at the cat and it looked up at her, almost as if it felt the same sensation she just did.

Natasha laid down on one of the cushions and sighed, closing her eyes.

Might as well go back to sleep.

The cat crawled over her legs and into the crook of her arms where she hugged it gently.

As Natasha drifted away, she heard a soft three-tone ring from her phone that sounded an awful lot like a text message alert… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Thank you ALL SO MUCHHHH I LOVE YOUUUU  
> I hoped you like Natasha's perspective! Again, comments are welcome!
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


	4. • It’s Not a Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the partners receive a mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who left kudos and comments!!! I appreciate your support so so much, it means the world to me!! <3

Glowing red eyes narrowed at Clint, glaring at him through slits. The agent stood up and slowly pulled the arrow out of his chest. His blood on the tip glinted off of the moonlight and matched his sickening grin. 

Clint tried to move but his feet were glued to the ground. The Hydra agent’s grin didn't slip off his face, even though his wound was dripping scarlet onto the ground.

The agent moved past Clint, not giving him another glance. Clint turned his head to see where he was going and his heart stopped when he realized where.

The agent was slowing walking towards Natasha, an unconscious pile on the ground. The agent poised himself, ready to stab her with the arrow, Clint’s arrow.

_ NO! Natasha!  _ Clint tried to scream. He couldn't. He couldn't even hear anything, just a low hum. He hoped he would wake up before anything happened, he hoped it would stop soon. 

But it didn't. 

Clint only woke up after his own arrow pierced Natasha’s skin. 

His eyes shot open, and he stared at the white ceiling. Clint inhaled shakily and exhaled slowly, trying to bring down his heart rate. 

Nightmares. You gotta love ‘em.

After he calmed down, Clint wiped saliva off the side of his mouth and smacked his lips once, squinting his eyes. He stretched and yawned loudly, but winced when his back cracked.

He whacked his arm over to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel Laura’s shoulder. But instead, his arm fell onto the empty sheets. He sighed and felt for his phone under his pillow.

Last night, when he saw a text from Natasha, he was kind of surprised. Pleasantly of course. But somehow he felt like he knew she had been awake too. Even though their time zones were like an hour apart. 

Clint had lain there, just staring at her text.  _ I brought a cat to your apartment; _ her words stuck out defiantly, teasing him. He could practically hear her voice.

Clint had stared at the text for a long time, thinking of a witty retort. It took him a while to answer, but he finally did with,  _ NOOO! _

Yeah, real creative. This morning however, he didn't get any texts back from Natasha. She hadn't even read it. Maybe she was still asleep. 

Clint put his phone back down and stretched one more time before getting out of bed. 

He stumbled downstairs to the sound of sizzling bacon and the smell of fried eggs. Clint heard metal jangling and turning his head, he saw Lucky, his dog, running towards him, his collar bouncing. He barked out excitedly at the sight of Clint. 

“Hey buddy,” Clint smiled and crouched down to pet Lucky on his soft head. Lucky responded by licking Clint’s hand. 

Clint stood up and walked into the kitchen where he saw Laura cooking. He leaned against the doorframe. “Mornin’.”

She didn't look up as she continued frying the egg, but he saw her smile slightly. “Hey sunshine. Took you long enough.”

“It's like 8 in the morning.” Clint jumped up to sit on the counter and ran a hand through his blond bed hair. “This is the earliest I've ever been up,” he joked. 

Laura laughed and leaving the eggs for a second, reached over to kiss him. She pulled away, making a disgusted face. “Ew Clint, go brush your teeth!”

He snorted, “Ok finnnee.”

Afterwards, he was eating breakfast when the phone rang. “Lauraaa!” he yelled out. 

“Ok, ok!” she responded, scurrying to pick it up. “Hello, Barton residence,” Laura answered.

Clint waited for her to hang up before asking anything. “Who was that?”

Laura emerged in the dining room, her hand on her hips. “Tony. He says he needs you in New York.”

Clint froze in the process of putting his fork in his mouth. “What? Why? When?” He tried not to seem too eager, but it wasn't working. 

“I dunno why. Didn't say,” Laura shrugged. “He’s sent a Quinjet and it'll be here in an hour.” She sighed and retreated into their bedroom. 

Clint silently fist-pumped and finished up his breakfast. After sloppily washing his plate, he hopped up the stairs to his room and started packing. 

Laura was on the bed, staring at her encrypted SHIELD communicator. 

Clint glanced up at her. “Hey, you haven't used that thing in months.”

“I know,” she said, “but I just got a message. They want me to go to this SHIELD base in California.”

“Whoa!” Clint exclaimed as he changed out of his pajama shirt. “You're no longer inactive?” He didn't really know why Laura was inactive - they never really talked about it. 

“I guess not.” She stared at the message. “It doesn't even say why…”

Clint moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “You're important again!” He squeezed her shoulders, joking. 

“Clint,” she sighed, pushing him away. “Seriously. What do they want with  _ me?” _ She couldn't stop staring at the communicator, her brown eyes darting.

Clint stared at her worried face, his joking mood gone. Laura was pretty sensitive sometimes; he tended to forget. “Hey,” he started to comfort her, “you're one of SHIELD’s best undercover agents. Maybe they need you for an important mission.”

She looked up at Clint, at his lopsided smile, and she had to give him a small smile. It was shy, like when he first met her. 

When he first met her.  _ Where did things go wrong?  _ Clint thought and then suddenly blinked. Wow. Why the heck did he just think that?

“Thanks Clint,” Laura said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. She sighed. “It's just that… I guess I've kind of missed the home life. Operation Farm gave me a taste of that.”

Clint nodded. “Yeah I get it. But hey,” he put his hands up, “you don't have to be a desperate housewife anymore.”

She scoffed and playfully pushed him off the bed. “Get going Agent Barton. Your jet will be here anytime.”

 

Meanwhile, it was 9 in the morning in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Natasha woke up and was surprised about how late it was. Even though she did go to sleep at 5 in the morning, she usually woke up by 6.

Natasha expected that when she sat up, she would be sore all over from a combination of the mission and sleeping on the sofa. But when she sat up, she noticed she was in Clint’s bed.

Natasha cautiously reached under the pillow for her handgun, thinking that maybe someone had moved her. But then she suddenly remembered that sometime during her slumber, she had migrated to his bed while half-asleep. Natasha slid the gun back under her pillow, laughing dryly at herself for being so paranoid. 

She was right about one thing though; she was  _ sore all over _ . Natasha swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. After a stretch, she walked over to the bathroom.

She stared at her face in the mirror, gray blue eyes boring back at her. Natasha washed her face, cleaning around her cuts from yesterday. While she was brushing her teeth, Natasha listened to the ambience of the city outside. Cars honked in traffic and a police siren could be heard in the distance. Clint’s neighbors were also up judging by the sound of some kid’s TV show filtering through the walls. 

Natasha spit into the sink and swished water in her mouth. After she changed out of her sleepwear, Natasha checked her phone. 

On her lock screen was a text notification from Clint. It read,  _ NOOO! _ Natasha couldn't help but smirk.

She texted back,  _ Too bad.  _ She thought for a bit before she texted him again,  _ I'm sore everywhere today. How’s your wound? _

She sat on the bed, staring at her phone as the sunlight shone through the window. Natasha wasn't sure if she’d get a response from him anytime soon, but she didn't move. 

Suddenly, she saw Clint responding. After a few seconds, his text read,  _ Sore all over too. My wound especially XP. Currently on a Quinjet to Stark Tower.  _

Natasha straightened her back and texted,  _ See you there _ . She grabbed her jacket before quickly flying out the door. 

Natasha heard the cat meow as she was leaving, so she stuck her head back in and quickly said goodbye. After checking that, yes, she did leave a can of tuna open, she left. 

Natasha decided to walk to Stark Tower, after seeing the traffic in the streets. Up above her, dark rain clouds were slowly sliding across the sky, a few already blotting out the sun. 

She wondered what Clint was needed for. Why did he have to fly all the way to Manhattan? And why wasn’t she informed of this? But it didn't really matter; he was coming here. And she  _ had  _ to be there. 

After checking in with FRIDAY, JARVIS’ replacement, Natasha took the elevator up to the flight deck. ACDC music was filtering through the speakers and Natasha quietly shook her head. The elevator doors slid open with a  _ ding  _ and she stepped out onto the freshly polished floor. 

Tony was sitting on a couch drinking from a glass and looked up at her. “Thanks for calling ahead,” he called out sarcastically. 

“Thanks for the invite,” Natasha shot back. She walked over and stood beside Tony. “When’s his plane getting here?”

Tony glanced at his watch. “In like 10 minutes.” He gestured at the couch opposite him. “Take a seat. You'll be here for a while,” he smirked. 

Natasha sighed and reluctantly sank down onto the soft white cushions. She crossed her legs and watched as Tony downed all of his glass. He winced as he put it back on the coffee table. 

“Just _what_ are you drinking so early in the morning?” Natasha raised an eyebrow. She knew Tony used to have a drinking problem. 

Tony sighed at her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Don't look at me like that Widow. It was just this dumb protein shake Pepper made me drink.” He opened his mouth and said, “Wanna give me a breath test?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. “No, I believe you.” Natasha changed the subject. “Why did you call Clint here?” she asked. 

Tony shrugged. “I needed to get you two in the same spot. Easiest way to do it was to call Clint here. I knew he’d tell you.”

“What for?”

“Not telling,” Tony sang as Natasha rolled her eyes. 

Tony leaned back in his seat and smirked. After a moment of silence, he suddenly said, “So did you have  _ anything _ , to do with Bruce’s disappearance? By any chance.”

The question caught her off guard. Natasha tried to hide her surprise, but it flashed for a millisecond. Tony smirked.

Natasha composed herself before answering, “I know just as much as you do, Stark.” Natasha kept her tone neutral, but she still felt guilty. Banner left because he thought it would be better for her. He left because she led him on. She hadn't meant to lose him like that. 

Tony’s smirk only grew wider and Natasha knew he wouldn't stop poking the fire. “Oh yeah? Well, I wasn’t as chummy with Brucie like you were. I mean,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “you  _ did  _ know how to calm him down with a lullaby.”

Natasha would have loved to clock Tony right in his smug face, but she knew that would give her away so she kept her face straight. She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, FRIDAY called out over the speakers, “The Quinjet is preparing to land, sir.”

Tony stood up and walked towards the landing zone. “Looks like your BFF is here.”

Natasha rose from her seat to follow Tony. She straightened her leather jacket as the jet landed softly. The hatch opened with a soft hiss and standing there, silhouetted by the dim daylight, was Clint. His familiar broad shoulders and the way he leaned on his right leg gave him away, at least to Natasha. To the left of him was the accompanying silhouette of a dog.

Clint and his dog walked down the gangway as he spread his arms out. “The oh-so important Clint Barton is here, lady and gentleman.”

Tony tsked, annoyed, “You brought a  _ dog _ with you to Stark Tower? Are you serious?”

Clint was now in front of them. Natasha could smell his scent: musky sweat and a touch of his cologne. Clint smirked at Tony and said, “Well, he misses his home.” His glance slid over to Natasha and he added, “Especially because  _ someone _ invited a  _ cat _ into it.”

Natasha smirked back and crouched down to scratch Lucky behind his ears. 

Tony sighed as he motioned for them to follow him into the elevators. “He won't pee on all my tech, will he?”

“‘Course not! I trained him  _ myself _ ,” Clint scoffed. 

“Great, that's reassuring,” Tony mumbled. 

Natasha realized she was still lightly smiling this whole time so she straightened her face and turned to Clint. “How’s your wound?”

“Eh, can't complain,” Clint said. He lifted his shirt to show a light purplish area on the side of his abdomen.

Natasha suddenly wanted to reach out and touch his stomach, to feel where his skin meshed with the artificial cells. But of course, she didn't and he quickly pulled down his shirt. 

Tony scoffed. “You guys are weird.” The elevator opened and they stepped out into what looked like a conference room. 

“We attending a business meeting?” Clint said, looking around the room. 

“No,” Tony laughed, “please. I make Pepper do that.” He reached over to the table and picked up a gray folder. “This is for you. From… You know who.”

“Fury,” Natasha said under her breath. They had just finished a mission and were usually given five days of repose. What was this?

Clint exchanged a glance with Natasha, thinking the same thing. 

“Don't say his name out loud or he’ll appear out of nowhere!” Tony stage-whispered. He walked over and handed the folder to them.

“Did you look inside?” Natasha asked, her voice low as she took the folder. She knew Tony was pretty nosy.

“No I didn't have time to.” Tony walked back towards the elevator and they followed him. “I hate being handed things, so Pepper took it for me and left it up here. But,” he punched the lobby button, “I definitely would have if I had the chance.”

Clint rolled his eyes. They stepped out into the lobby and Tony stood there, his hands in his pockets. “So, I'm assuming you two won't just read it in front of me.”

“No,” Clint laughed, “we’re going to my apartment. Where there is no fear of eavesdroppers.”

“I see how it is.” Tony nodded, a smile on his face. “You two need a car?”

“Yes,” Clint said.

“No,” Natasha said at the same time.

“I'll honor the lady’s wishes,” Tony smirked at Clint, who was giving Natasha a mock-glare. Tony waved goodbye as he retreated back into the elevator, “See ya. Get outta here you crazy kids!”

Clint, Natasha, and Lucky left through the main doors and stood on the sidewalk. The sky was gray now, gloomy with no sign of the sun. “Are you kidding me Nat?” Clint looked up, his eyes squinted. “It looks like it’s going to rain!” he whined. 

Lucky barked and nuzzled Natasha’s leg before trotting in the direction of his home. Natasha smirked at Clint. “Majority rules.”

Clint groaned and walked alongside Natasha. They let Lucky lead the way. Drizzle started to fall from the sky. A drop landed on Clint’s head and another landed on Natasha’s nose. She tucked the folder under her shirt and jacket to keep it as dry as possible.

“Great,” Clint grumbled. He imagined that they were going to trail wet puddles into his apartment, just like he did 2 years ago. 

2 years ago when Natasha left him outside. Clint now glanced at her and she was quiet, her face ice cold. He wondered what she was thinking about. 

The silence between them shifted from comfortable to uncomfortable. 

This rarely ever happened, but when it did, it was unmistakably noticeable. 

“So,” Natasha said suddenly, “how’s Laura?”

_ Not helping, Nat, _ Clint thought. Out loud he answered, “Uh, she's great. Yeah.” There was a pause as they both nodded their heads. “She got called on a mission. To some base in California.”

Natasha glanced at Clint. She noticed that stubble was spreading across his jaw. “California? Since when did we have a base in California? I mean, after last April…”

“Yeah, all our bases were either raided or destroyed. Or both.” Clint shrugged. “I think a few new underground, secret bases were recently constructed. I mean, SHIELD  _ is  _ trying to rise up again.”

Natasha nodded silently. She started thinking about Laura, Agent 24. There wasn’t much that she knew about Laura except for the fact that she was one of SHIELD’s best undercover agents. In fact, undercover missions were her specialty. Laura had been in undercover missions way deeper than Natasha ever had been. 

But why was Laura inactive? Something must have happened to her during the fall of SHIELD that had her pulled out of any missions after that. And even when she was finally given a mission, Operation Farm, it was a docile and quiet undercover mission: to be Clint’s wife.

The sudden downpour of rain jolted Natasha out of her musings and she heard Clint exclaim, “Aw no!” He started sprinting after Lucky and Natasha followed suit.

They splashed through puddles for about 3 blocks before finally arriving at Clint’s apartment. They stopped right outside the apartment building’s door to squeeze as much water out of their clothes as they could at the moment. Lucky shook the water off of his fur.

The three then entered through the door and took the old elevator up to Clint’s floor. He mumbled, “I knew we would be making little puddle trails,” as he trudged down the hallway to his apartment.

Natasha just rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door. She didn’t really know why she liked walking in the rain, or getting drenched. Yeah, she definitely did not like the smell of rain in the city, but maybe she liked it because of all the times she and Clint had walked in the rain before. They’d done it several times, mainly during missions, but no matter how terrible the mission was, thinking about their walk in the rain always made Natasha feel… warmer.

They stepped into the apartment and Clint looked at his couch to see a black cat lying on a cushion. “Is that the cat?” he asked exasperatedly. “I don’t trust cats.”

“Aw come on Clint,” Natasha said, pulling her wet jacket off, “he’s really friendly.”

Lucky ran straight to the couch and jumped up, sniffing the cat. The black cat sniffed Lucky back and they started having a conversation consisting of barks and meows.

“See, they’re friends,” Natasha pet the cat on the head.

“What’s his name?” Clint asked, walking over to pet the cat also.

“He’s a stray so he doesn’t have a name.”

Clint gave her a sideways glance. “Oh yeah?” He pulled off his wet t-shirt and proceeded to throw it in the laundry basket. “Isn’t this the cat you said has been hanging around your apartment all the time?”

Natasha shrugged and tossed him her jacket so he could throw it in the laundry too. “Yeah, so?” She pulled out the folder, still dry, and placed it on the coffee table.

“Well, you’ve known it for a while now! If you haven’t named it,” his voice called out from his room, “it’s ‘cause you don’t wanna get attached.”

Natasha sighed. “Whatever Clint. Just get out here and we’ll read the mission brief.”

He emerged from his room in a dry set of clothes and rubbed a towel on his wet hair. Clint threw the towel on the back of his couch and sat down next to Natasha, his blond hair sticking up in different directions. She smiled and reached over to smooth his hair down.

Clint reached over and took the folder. “Is this seriously another mission? We  _ just _ had one.”

“A failed one,” Natasha added.

Clint gave her a look and turned back to the gray folder. He opened it up and pulled out sheets of paper.

The two scanned it together, side by side, just like they always did whenever they received mission briefs. This felt familiar, something the two clung to, whether or not the other knew it.

That’s what always ended up happening with SHIELD agents. They devoted their whole lives to SHIELD and as a result, they thrived on missions. They might need a few days of rest after a mission, but after too long, they would feel… useless. Restless. Bored even.

They could never have a normal life. Ever. Those dreams were ruined. And they both knew it.

So they continued reading the brief - they accepted the fact that they had yet another mission.

And when they finished reading, Clint sighed, leaned back on the couch, and said, “Looks like we’re going on a ‘vacation’ to Hawaii.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Chapter 4!! I've dropped a few hints about Laura's past in this, really just to rouse the suspicion/curiosity...
> 
> Just to let you know, Chapter 5 will not be Clintasha-centric... I'll be focusing on Laura's backstory! I hope you really do stick around for it because I'm really excited about the next chapter!! I've created an interesting story for her I think...
> 
> Chapter 6 will continue with Clint and Natasha's Hawaii "vacation" so don't fret! Again, thank you so much for reading and commenting and just supporting my story in general. I appreciate all the time you spend reading what I've written!!
> 
> ~Marvel_Grl :3


	5. • It’s Just Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laura's backstory is explored  
> TW: Minor violence and head trauma

_ 1 year ago, around the Fall of SHIELD _

A man and a woman were tied to a pair of chairs, back to back. They clasped each other's hands as best as they could. 

The door nearby slammed open and a man walked out. He dangled the woman's purse from his fingers. "So... Mr. and Mrs. Donahue... Do you know why you're here?" He had a slight Spanish accent. 

The woman, Mrs. Donahue, started sobbing. "Please, what did we do?!"

Their captor crouched down in front of her and pinched her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him. 

"Don't hurt her!" Mr. Donahue yelled. 

The captor ignored him. "Do you know what you have in this purse?"

Mrs. Donahue replied shakingly, "J-just my ID and some-some money. Please just take it and let us go!"

The man let go of her face and stepped back. "You're a liar." He dumped out the contents and along with her wallet, a leather case tumbled out. 

Mrs. Donahue froze mid-sob.

The man picked up the case and said, " _ This _ is what our contact was supposed to deliver to us tonight. But he didn't show up. Did you take this from him?"

"I... I have no idea what you're talking about," Mrs. Donahue stammered. 

"Nora? Is this about what happened with that man we bumped into?" her husband asked quietly. 

She opened her mouth to deny it, but she couldn't. Not to her husband. "I'm sorry Jesse," she started, "but I should have told you earlier." The captor leaned in closer to hear better, but Nora continued to address her husband. "I work for a special organization that was sent to intercept that package. When I bumped into that man on the street, it was intentionally. That's when I took the package."

"So all this time when you said you were going to work for a corporate company, you were really working for this ‘organization’?!" Jesse cried incredulously.

Nora whispered with shame, "Yes."

The captor growled. "What did you do to Esteban?"

“You mean your contact?” Nora glared up at the man. "He's gone now."

The captor yelled and punched Nora in the face. "That was supposed to be a peace offering between our two gangs! You've jeopardized  _ everything _ ! Who do you work for?!" The man grasped Nora by the front of her shirt, her chair teetering closer to him. 

"I'll tell you everything," she started slowly, "if you let my husband go. He has nothing to do with this."

Jesse's eyes were wide and he exclaimed, bewildered, "Nora??"

The captor growled and let go of Nora. " _ Get in here and untie the man! _ " he yelled out in Spanish. Two men with huge biceps shuffled into the room and untied Jesse. They each held his arms and restrained him. 

"Ok your husband is free," the captor snarled, "now tell us who you work for!"

"Open the case," Nora motioned with her head, "and you'll see that the deal still stands."

The captor looked down at the case skeptically. He glanced up at Nora and back down at the case. 

“Our organization can offer you a better deal,” Nora prodded. 

He sighed and as he unclasped the latch, Nora glanced at Jesse. They nodded at each other and sucked in a big breath. 

Just as the captor raised the lid of the case, a soft pop sound was heard and a bright red-orange smoke spilled out of the case. The captor dropped it immediately, but the smoke had already diffused throughout the room. 

The captors started coughing uncontrollably. Jesse yanked his arms out of the guards' grips and drop-kicked both of them to the ground. Meanwhile, Nora stood up with the chair still attached to her and with a spin, knocked the main boss unconscious with one of the chair legs.

Jesse rushed over to her and with one of the guard's knives, cut her free. Together, they ran out of the room and closed the door. 

They leaned their backs against the door, breathing heavily and laughing from the adrenaline. "Nice work Agent Ludwig," "Jesse" said. 

"Nora" responded, "Back at you, Agent Cavell."

After regaining their breath, the two ran down the hallway. They quickly dispatched anyone in their way with the fluidity of two trained agents. The partners were like a well-oiled machine. Their attacks matched each other's and flowed naturally. 

They were a perfect pair. 

After arriving in a large room, the two agents spotted crates of illegal drugs. They set charges that were wired to go off in 20 minutes. Together, they rushed out of the base. 

They ran and ran, side by side, their breaths in perfect harmony. As they sped away in a car, the base blew up behind them. 

Agent Cavell was behind the wheel and he was hooting with laughter. The adrenaline of a successful mission was still running through both of their blood streams. 

"And yet another job well done by the best undercover SHIELD agents," Cavell exclaimed, "Laura Ludwig and Dean Cavell!"

Laura laughed, despite being out of breath. She glanced out the back windshield and saw the base on fire behind them. "We really are. But I still can't believe you chose Nora as my cover name. It sounds too similar to my real one!"

Dean laughed back, his happiness rippling over Laura. "I couldn't resist."

Laura smiled at her partner and reached over to take his hand that wasn't on the wheel. They exchanged a glance of fondness before continuing on the road. 

Half an hour later, they parked the car at a grocery store's abandoned parking lot. They exited the car and started walking down the sidewalk, the orange glow of the sunset washing over them like a warm blanket. 

Laura and Dean started the walk back to their hotel, arms locked. She was laughing from something Dean had said, despite the fresh bruise blooming on her cheek.

“Seriously though,” He said, “that guy had  _ no _ idea.” He looked down at Laura and grinned, his brown eyes wrinkling at the corners. “We’re the  _ best _ undercover agents, aren’t we Laura?”

She looked back up at him, tucked a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear, and smiled back. “We  _ definitely _ are, Dean.” She squeezed his middle with her arm and they entered the hotel together.

It was prohibited for partners to be romantically involved, but it was tough to avoid it. When you spend most of your time saving each other's backsides, you create a strong connection. Something stronger than friendship. 

Laura loved Dean. They had been partners for almost 4 years, and had started dating a year ago. Well, as much dating as a SHIELD agent could even do. 

Laura was always more in touch with her emotional side than most agents, which was one of the reasons why she was such a strong undercover agent. So when she had started having... feelings... for Dean, she couldn't hide it. She just had to let him know.  

And thankfully, he felt the same way. 

SHIELD believed a romantic relationship between two partners would complicate things. It would distract from the mission, and as the mantra went, the mission  _ always _ came first. 

But anytime Laura felt like she was being an insubordinate agent, she told herself that they lasted this long, right? It would be ok. 

Everything would be ok. 

That night of the Spain mission, Laura was sleeping soundly in her hotel bed. The bruise was really starting to hurt, so she decided to hit the hay earlier than usual. 

Of course Dean joined her, making sure she was warm and comfortable. The feeling of his strong arm emanating heat wrapped around her was enough for Laura to forget her bruise, to forget the sores from the rope on her wrists, to forget the fact that she didn't have a normal life. 

But later in the night, she felt cold. Her eyes snapped open and she was met with the sight of Dean crouching down. She smirked and was about to make a comment about how cute his butt looked in his slouching boxers, but then she realized what he was doing. 

There was a faint bluish glow coming from the front of his face; it was the glow of an electronic screen. Laura's brows furrowed. 

Whenever they went deep undercover, like this mission, there was no way to contact SHIELD except an emergency extraction radio with a single button. That way, their covers would be kept as intact as possible. 

So the only electronic Laura could imagine Dean holding and typing into would be his phone... But why was he turned away? Why wasn't he just lying in bed and playing on his phone there? And even if he was, their phones were simply for a cover image. SHIELD agents didn't have Twitter or a Facebook to check.

Laura heard warning bells in the back of her mind for some reason. Call it "spy's instinct." 

She called out, "Dean?"

He flinched.

Dean turned around quickly, his phone’s screen turned into the side of his leg. It looked natural enough. But she knew him too well, she knew he was hiding something. 

“Why are you up?” she asked slowly as she sat up in bed.

He laughed, a short exhale of air that sounded devoid of emotion. “Laura, babe, I'm just messing around on my phone.” He leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “Go back to bed.”

All Laura wanted to do was to lie back down, pretend everything was fine, trust him, and fall asleep. But as a spy, she just couldn't let it go. 

Laura would be forever tortured by this moment; what would have happened if she  _ did  _ just go back to sleep?

But she didn't. Instead, she got out of bed and asked Dean, “What aren't you telling me?” She tried to get closer to him, but he backed up against the wall. 

“Laura,” he said, his voice low, different, “please don't do this. Stay out of it.”

“Stay out of  _ what? _ ” Laura snapped and in one lightning-fast movement, she swiped his phone out of his hand. 

She looked down at the screen. There was a simple message, white text on a navy blue background. The message read,  _ The time is near. Finish your job and meet at base.  _

Laura took some time to process it and when she finally looked up to ask how Dean was contacting SHIELD, she was met with the glare of a pistol barrel. 

Her heart froze. Dean was aiming it straight at her. “Dean?” she managed to whisper shakily. All she could think was,  _ Why is this happening why is he doing this why why why? _

“Laura,” he responded, his voice equally as shaky. “Put the phone  _ down. _ And I'll let you leave.”

Laura couldn't even say anything; her thoughts were so jumbled and her heart felt like it was being locked up in layer after layer of chains.

So she did the only thing she was wired to do in these kind of situations. 

Laura swiftly moved out of the line of fire and whacked Dean’s arm, flipping the gun out of his reach. It flew up and upon landing, it slid under the dresser. Dean immediately attacked Laura, tackling her onto the bed.

He pinned her down, holding her wrists with one of his strong hands. With the other, he raised it to punch her and knock her out.

Dean didn’t even have the chance. Laura brought her knee up hard and slammed it into his groin. He groaned and released his hold on her.

Laura abruptly scrambled off the bed and reached frantically under the dresser. Her fingers met cold metal and she gripped it, whipping it out in front of her. She aimed down the sights at Dean.

He recovered from his attack and looked up slowly at Laura. “Laura…” he started.

“Don’t,” she said firmly, despite how much she was shaking. The barrel of the gun was unsteady, jerking back and forth. “Don’t talk to me.” She took a few shuddering breaths before asking, “Is your name even Dean?” It came out as a whisper.

“Laura,” he stepped off the bed, his hands raised in the air. “Please, listen to me.”

She cocked the gun as he approached her. The closer he got, the worse her shaking became.

He was soon standing directly in front of her, the barrel of the pistol only inches from his head. “Laura,” Dean whispered, his voice so soft like silk, like a summer breeze, like when he whispered into her ear at night as he stroked her hair. “ _ Please _ .” He reached out and brushed tears Laura didn’t even know were there off of her cheek.

“Dean,” she whispered, her voice quavering. Laura lowered the gun and reached over to embrace him. She hugged him hard, feeling his warmth emanate from his bare torso through her pajama shirt. 

She loved him so much, she thought she knew everything about him. What was this?  _ Well, whatever it was, maybe we can figure it out. Everything will be ok _ .

Laura embraced him with all of her might, she rubbed her face on his broad shoulder, her tears staining his skin.

“Laura,” he whispered into her ear. His voice was so soft, unbelievably soft. It reminded her of the first time he opened up to her.

They had been on a mission in Argentina and that night, they lay on their hotel bed, spooning each other, and he told her his childhood story.

“Laura,” he whispered again, “I’m sorry.”

Before she could entirely process what he said, he raised some heavy object above her and smashed it on the top of her head.

Sharp pain bloomed across her skull, and she was sure it was fractured. Laura fell backwards and instinctively pulled the trigger. She landed on the carpet hard, her back slamming against the wooden dresser.

Laura opened her eyes, ignoring the ringing in her ears. In front of her, she saw Dean clutching his stomach, vermilion branching out from beneath his hands. He fell backward onto the carpet. She looked at her hand where she still clutched the pistol, its barrel smoking.

Laura whimpered and dropped the gun. She clambered up to the top of the dresser where she found the emergency extraction communicator. She jammed the button with her thumb over and over as hot tears streamed from her eyes.

Laura dropped the communicator, black dots swarming her vision. She rushed back over to Dean and crouched down, cradling his head. She whispered his name over and over again, stroking his hair.

His blank glossy eyes stared past her and she sobbed even harder, leaning down over his face. Her tears rained on his cheeks and she lowered down to kiss him.

Blood started to drip down the crown of her head and from inside her nose, but Laura didn’t care.

She continued to hold Dean, repeating his name over and over.

Laura held onto him, even as she heard the faint whirring of a SHIELD helicopter overhead, even as her vision started to fill with black dots, even as she felt her body fall forward on top of Dean.

Because even though he tried to kill her, Laura still loved him.

Even when she woke up in some underground SHIELD infirmary with a bandage wrapped around her head, she still asked about him.

Even when the doctors told her she had a major skull fracture because Dean had struck her head with such violent strength, she continued to ask about him.

And when they said he was a Hydra agent, a traitorous member of a terrorist organization that was seeded within SHIELD, she refused to believe it.

But no matter how hard she tried, she was forced to believe it. The message she had seen, his actions.

And then she was declared inactive because of her skull fracture and any minor head trauma would kill her. So Laura had so much time alone in silence to agonizingly analyze what happened, over and over and over.

She could never forget how soft his voice was when he said, “Please,” and “I’m sorry.”

Did he ever love her? Was he more loyal to Hydra than her? 

Did he even care about her at all?

No one knew about what happened between her and Dean, how deep this betrayal cut her. It hurt Laura too much to even think about it, much less speak about it out loud so screw that SHIELD psychologist who thought he could help. Laura eventually resorted to pretending that she was fine, that her mental health was back on track and it was only her physical injuries that needed to be treated.

She kept her mouth shut and tried to heal on her own.

And when she finally got assigned an undercover mission with Agent Barton, she thought,  _ Why not?  _ She flirted with him, she tried to make him feel needed. She knew his feelings for her weren’t strong and she knew she was only using him as a rebound.

Laura was starving for something to distract her from the prison within her memories, something that came back to haunt her every single waking moment of her life.

Clint helped, a little. But whenever he left for a mission, or fell asleep, Laura returned to that traumatic event.

She returned to that memory of Dean’s face as he stroked the tears from her cheeks, forever burned into her brain.

Laura felt that searing pain everyday, over and over. 

She relived that moment over and over, the feeling like a red hot glass knife deep in her flesh, twisting and turning and burning.

And the worst part?

No one knew about the nightmare she was trapped in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this depressing chapter! Yes, I know, this was not a Clintasha chapter, but I felt like it was important to focus on Laura's backstory. She's important to this fan-fiction too, especially if I want to work out all the... let's just say, plot lines from Age of Ultron. This backstory for Laura was something that I created; it has nothing to do with comic book Laura Barton. 
> 
> I hope the beginning wasn't too confusing with all the different names and stuff, but I think you should be able to follow along...? Somewhat?? If not comment and I'll help LOL
> 
> Again, thank you for all the kudos!! Aaaahhh I'm so happy! Thank you for enjoying and reading my work.
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


	6. • First Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint and Natasha land in Hawaii

A ray of sunshine came through the plane window and sparkled off of a diamond ring. Natasha stared at the blindingly sparkly ring on her finger.

"I picked out a nice one, didn't I?" Clint smirked, leaning across and swiping Natasha's knee with his hand.

She leaned back in the seat. "You didn't pick this out; someone at SHIELD did."

He shrugged in response. "Ok, ok." Clint stared out the window at the passing clouds for a moment before turning back to Natasha. “We’re almost there right?”

“We have 3 hours left.”

“Ughh!” Clint groaned, dragging his fingers down his face.

Natasha smiled at his silly expression. “Relax, you baby. You should be glad Stark let us use one of his private jets so we wouldn't have to ride coach.”

Clint stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Ugh  _ coach _ . That’s what  _ poor _ people use,” he said in an overly-snobby voice.

Natasha gave him a flat look. “You really need to work on your cover. Actually,” she started to pull a folder out of her bag despite Clint’s protests, “let's go over the cover again.”

“Nat, we’ve already been through the stupid cover folder a thousand times,” he whined.

They went through it again anyways.

Since SHIELD was essentially dismantled now, the resources they had on missions were not as plenty as before. They were provided with all the essentials: cover passports and IDs. That was basically it. Natasha and Clint had to create a backstory for their cover and plan how to carry out the mission on their own.

This time, they were fiances Lotte North and Martin Mahoney. Natasha created a backstory for Lotte North: she was the wealthy heir of a multibillion dollar business from Italy. She was vacationing with her fiance in Hawaii for a week.

Clint on the other hand had more fun with his backstory. Martin Mahoney was an American that came to study abroad in Italy and fell in love with Ms. Lotte North. He was the son of an affluent winery owner from California. Clint liked to think he was “charming” and “charismatic”. Natasha told Clint she thought Martin Mahoney was “dopey.”

Clint added more silly details that Natasha told him he’d end up forgetting. So clearly, Clint was determined to prove that he could remember all the details he made up.

The target for the mission was a high-ranking Hydra official. All they knew was that he or she would be attending a conference for wealthy corporate men and investors in a hotel in Hawaii. Natasha and Clint’s job was to find out who the Hydra official was. Afterwards, they could do whatever they wished: assassinate him, expose him as Hydra, or spy on him and gather more information.

The two partners had trouble figuring out what to do at the end, so when they got to that part of the plan, Clint just said, “We’ll wing it.”

After going through their covers and mission plan, Clint sat back in his chair and slid his sunglasses down. “I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

“I’ll wake you up when we have an hour left. We still need to dress and prepare,” Natasha told him.

Clint nodded absently and closed his eyes.

Natasha looked out the window. She tried to look down at the ground, but they were too high up. It was as though they were traveling in an infinite vacuum of space. She heard Clint’s breathing become even and she glanced over at him.

Her eyes ran over his face first, his eyes obscured by his mirrored sunglasses. She saw herself staring back at herself in the sunglasses and snapped her eyes away for a split second. They eventually drifted back to his face. She observed his angled nose and his sharp jaw, now clean of stubble. She watched his neck muscles move slightly as he breathed, his chest slowly moving up and down. The rhythm of his breathing seemed entrancing, like the movement of the tides. Natasha was unaware of how her breathing started to match his.

Her eyelids started to slowly lower when Clint suddenly said, his voice raspy, “Why are you watching me?”

Natasha’s eyes snapped open and back to his face. She expected him to be smirking, but he wasn’t. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked at her with intense focus.

She couldn’t stand it whenever he gave her this look, with his intense cerulean stare pinning her down like a butterfly on a wooden board. Clint was usually in a joking mood so whenever he was serious, his attention was like a spotlight, his voice like the soft crack of a lightning strike, drawing you towards him.

“You were awake this whole time?” Natasha dodged the question.

“Yeah,” he answered, his eyes unwavering, his body in the same slumped position.

They were silent for a beat.

“You looked peaceful,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought maybe you weren’t having nightmares anymore.”

His eyes darted across her face then came back to her eyes. She was staring at his headrest. Clint said, equally as soft, “I wish.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped back to his and she mentally begged him to stop this intimate conversation. It wasn’t making her uncomfortable as she thought it would; she actually… liked it. But she couldn’t have it go on any further. They were only partners.

Maybe Clint received her message or maybe he had his own agenda, but he cracked a lopsided smile and straightened up in his seat. “Those nightmares aren’t ever going to leave us alone, you know that?”

Natasha involuntarily exhaled in relief as she responded, “Probably not.”

Now the tone had shifted to something more lighthearted, even though the words they were saying held more weight.

Clint pressed a button on his armrest and his chair leaned all the way back. “Ok, I’m going to sleep for real now.” As he lay back and shut his eyes, he shouted, “And I better not catch you watching me sleep again, Romanoff, you creep!”

Natasha couldn’t resist smiling and she leaned back in her seat to sleep too. “No promises.”

This time, Clint  _ did  _ sleep. For real.

Natasha tried, but she couldn’t sleep soundly. She continued to wake up every few minutes so she gave up. Instead, she stood up and walked around the jet to stretch out her legs.

When they had one hour left in the flight, Natasha woke Clint up as she’d promised. They changed into outfits that their covers would wear; Natasha in a white blouse and pencil skirt and Clint in a suit. He refused to wear his tie.

The two descended from the plane with stewards carrying their luggages for them. A limo awaited them on the tarmac and a man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt stood beside it. He was holding a sign with their cover names printed on it.

“That for us?” Clint asked suspiciously, eyeing the man.

“Our names are on the sign,” Natasha responded, “but I’m not too sure,” she finished sarcastically.

“Ha ha, funny.” He scoffed and looked at the man who waved excitedly at them. “But seriously, how’d he know we’d be coming?”

Natasha sighed. “When I responded to the invitation for the business conference in Hawaii, I had to give them our flight information to be picked up. Remember, this business conference is supposed to be for a lot of other rich people. It’s more professional sending a driver like this.”

Clint nodded to Natasha then turned to the Hawaiian man, grinning and waving back.

“Aloha!” the man smiled warmly and put his hand out. “You’re Mr. Mahoney?”

“I sure am.” Clint gestured to Natasha who had just strode up beside him, a warm smile on her face. Anyone looking at her would be fooled into thinking that she was a charismatic businesswoman, but Clint knew her smile was completely fake. Her dull grey-blue eyes gave her away, at least to Clint. “And this is my lovely fiancee, Lotte.”

The driver shook hands with Natasha as they exchanged pleasantries. After the luggages were loaded, they entered the limo and were on their way to their hotel.

Natasha reapplied her red lipstick, looking into her mini compact mirror. “You know what to do?” she asked vaguely, aware that the driver could be listening.

“I think I’ve got it after the thousandth-and-first time we went over it,” he glanced at her with an irritated look that only he could give her.

She snapped her mirror closed and put it into her purse. “Then let’s do this.”

When the limo pulled up to the hotel, they got out, tipped the driver, and checked in. Their hotel room was more than just a “room”: the door opened up into a kitchen which led into the dining area, living room, and a balcony with a breath-taking view of the ocean. It had one master bedroom complete with a roomy bathroom.

Clint was awe-struck when he took it all in. He wasn’t used to this kind of luxury, even on undercover missions. Usually they got stuck in some dinky motel that was easy to overlook and had little security. He walked out to the glass door, sliding it open and stepping out onto the balcony. Clint stood at the rail and stared at the ocean, the waves sloshing back and forth as a light breeze ruffled his gelled hair.

Natasha called for him from within the hotel room, but he didn’t seem to hear her. She rolled her eyes and went outside with him. “Hey, your hearing aid broken or something?” she asked, poking his earlobe gently.

“Naw,” he responded, “I just can’t believe we’re in freaking Hawaii… for a  _ mission _ .” He sighed dramatically and looked at her with a pouty face. “All work and no play, amiright Romanoff?”

She punched him in the shoulder. “It’s  _ Lotte North _ . Got it?”

Clint rubbed his shoulder. “Alright, alright! I’ve got it.”

They walked back into the hotel room and put their luggages away. One luggage had tourist and cover clothes packed in it. The other smaller one had all their spy gear. They carefully put that luggage somewhere safer.

Whenever they went on an undercover mission, they packed extremely light. You never knew when you had to leave, so it was important to be able to grab your stuff and go.

“Ok, so first thing we have to do is…?” Clint said as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, combing his hair.

Natasha was beside him, pulling her hair up into a neat and tight updo. “I thought you knew what to do?” She gave him a look in the mirror.

“Yeah…” he said, fixing a cowlick in the back, “I’m just testing  _ you _ .”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re going to the invitational lunch that they’re holding in one of the meeting rooms.” She finished sticking the last bobby pin in her hair and turned to Clint. “So Mr. Mahoney. Tell me what time the meeting is.”

Clint finished smoothing down his last stray hair and turned to face Natasha. “12:30, Ms. North.” He grinned at her.

She nodded. “Good.”

It was still early so they decided to walk around the premises. This way, they wouldn’t get lost in an emergency. They stepped into the elevator and Clint stared at all the buttons. “There are  _ 22 floors? _ ” He instinctively reached up to run his hands through his hair, but Natasha gripped his wrist.

“Don’t mess up your hair.” 

He obediently put his hand back down. 

Natasha punched the lobby button. “We don’t have to worry about the residential floors too much. The only floor we would have to worry about is whichever floor our target is staying in.”

The elevators suddenly stopped at the 14th floor. Natasha and Clint stepped backward as the doors opened and a man came in. He was tall and tan with elegantly styled dark hair. He eyed Natasha. Suddenly he spoke. “Are you two here for the business invitational?” He had a European accent, though Clint couldn’t place where.

“Yes,” Natasha responded in an Italian accent. “I’m Lotte North, nice to meet you.” She stuck her hand out to shake.

“Viorel Ionescu.” He took Natasha’s hand gently and put his lips to her hands.

Clint didn’t realized he was staring down this Ionescu guy until Natasha nudged him. Clint put on a polite face, but the dude didn’t even acknowledge the fact that Clint was standing in the same elevator as him.

Ionescu apparently only had eyes for Natasha, as usual.

The elevator doors opened with a  _ ding _ and they stepped out. “Well, it was very nice meeting you Mr. Ionescu,” Natasha said as she hooked her arm around Clint’s.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He drawled, then flashed his immaculate white teeth. “And please, call me Viorel.”

Natasha gave him a polite little nod and they walked away in different directions. When they were out of Ionescu’s earshot, Clint whispered to Natasha, “He seems like one of those annoying rich guys that try to win over people with their flashy cars and watches.”

Natasha smirked. “Like Tony?”

“Yup.”

She nodded in response, glancing back. Natasha noticed Viorel hadn’t moved from the last time she saw him. He was still staring at them intensely. She snapped her head back and gripped Clint’s arm harder. “Definitely suspicious. He’s still staring at us.”

“What the-” Clint made a move to look back, but Natasha moved her arm up to his head to stop him from looking. She pulled his head so that his ear was closer to her lips.

She whispered to him, “He can be Suspect Number One.”

Clint whispered back, “What accent did he have? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Romanian.”

“Oh good,” Clint sighed, pulling his ear away from her. “I thought he was Hungarian.”

Natasha gave him a look. “What would be bad about that?”

“Budapest,” Clint stated simply.

Natasha laughed, her head thrown back slightly. Clint stared at her. “Wow. I just realized I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a  _ long _ time.”

She looked up at him. “Yeah, don’t expect it to happen again.” She tried to put on a serious face, but she couldn’t. Instead, Natasha was smiling up at Clint, who of course couldn’t resist smiling back.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Ok best friend, we gotta get to work.” Clint broke his gaze with her and started scanning the hotel lobby, his sharp eyes darting around.

Natasha observed along with him, the pair sauntering along silently. Natasha’s shoulders felt too warm under Clint’s arm, at least when compared to the rest of her body. She rubbed her hands together, feeling the chill that always lingered on her skin.

She was always cold.

As she was walking with Clint, she felt her heart beating steadily. When she leaned into Clint’s body a bit, she could hear his heartbeat beating in sync with hers. Natasha smiled a little.

“Hmm,” Clint said. She felt his chest rumble with his murmur.

“What?” She straightened her back, looking around.

“I think the meeting’s in there,” he pointed to some ornate double doors. Beside them was a plated sign that read,  _ Meeting Room _ .

Natasha took out her phone and checked the time. “I guess we can be early to the lunch.”

“What?” He glanced down at her, a light smile on his lips. “You wanted to be fashionably late?”

“I just don’t want to be the only ones in there. It would look… I don’t know, unprofessional?”

“Whatever Naaat,” he sang.

She squeezed his arm, causing him to squeak. “It’s  _ Lotte _ .” 

“Ok, ok! Geez,” Clint tried to pull his arm out of Natasha’s, but she held fast and smirked up at him.

The two pushed through the double doors, expecting to be greeted by an empty lunchroom. But instead, it was full of businessmen and women. Natasha hid her surprise well, but Clint’s eyes went as wide as dishes.

Everyone was looking at them.

“Are we late?” Clint whispered to Natasha out of the side of his mouth while he put on a fake grin.

“No,” she whispered back, “we’re early. But it doesn’t matter.” Natasha flashed a winning smile and pulled Clint along towards the throng of people. “We’ve got some mingling to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! I know you're probably itching for action, but just hang on and Chapter 8 should have some action, I'm planning on it!!
> 
> I love fluffy chapters, so I hoped you enjoyed this as much as I did! Why'd you think Natasha was staring at Clint on the plane? What do you think of Ionescu? 
> 
> Can't wait to hear your thoughts on it!!
> 
> ~Marvel_Grl :3


	7. • Fashionably Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha and Clint find out what's really going on

“I need some hand sanitizer.”

Natasha glanced at Clint’s hands. “What is it now, you baby?” They were seated at one of the tables in the room, drained from introducing themselves to so many people.

Clint gave her a disgusted look. “We shook hands with  _ so  _ many people! Who knows what they did with those! Plus,” he added, “we’re going to eat soon.”

Natasha quickly scanned the room. “There,” she pointed to a door, “go wash your hands in the bathroom.”

“Sounds good.” Clint stood up to go and motioned at Natasha to stand up. “You should do the same - your hands are probably all germy.”

She stood up and smiled at him. “Since when are  _ you _ so germaphobic?”

“Ever since I had to shake that creep Ionescu’s hand,” he scoffed, referring to a few minutes ago when they had encountered Ionescu again. 

Clint walked into the men’s restroom and made a beeline for the sink. He hovered his hand below the faucet, waiting for the automatic sink to turn on. When it did, the water was blisteringly hot. Clint yelped and yanked his hand backwards just as someone entered the bathroom. Clint was shaking his hands in the air as he glanced up to see who had just come in with him. It was Ionescu. 

_ Great _ , Clint thought,  _ I’m stuck in here with Mr. Creepo _ . Ionescu was looking at him as he turned on the sink next to Clint. “Hey,” Clint greeted, bobbing his head. He squirted some soap onto his hands and started scrubbing.

Ionescu nodded in response and remained silent.

_ We’re just two dudes scrubbing our hands next to each other. Totally not weird _ , Clint thought as he rinsed the soap off his hands. He pulled his hands away from the stream of water and grabbed a paper towel.

“Your fiancee,” Ionescu suddenly said.

“Yeah?” Clint answered, already and accidentally sounding defensive.

“Why did she choose you?”

Clint blinked. “Uh, excuse me?”

“She could have anyone she wanted,” he said, suddenly fixing his sharp green eyes on Clint. “And she chose a boy from California. Why?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not a  _ boy _ ,” Clint scoffed. “And second of all; dude, are you  _ jealous _ ? If you’re so interested in why she prefers me over guys like you, then why don’t you ask her yourself?” He raised an eyebrow.

Ionescu’s face didn’t waver, his eyes still boring into Clint’s. “Maybe I will.” He brushed past Clint and left the bathroom.

“Prick,” Clint murmured under his breath as the bathroom door closed. He waited a few seconds before leaving too. Back in the meeting room, Clint glanced towards their table and tried to spot Natasha. She wasn’t there.

He walked towards the table and sat back down, looking around with confusion.  _ Where’d she go? _ Just as he was about to stand up to go look for her, someone suddenly sat down next to Clint. He glanced over to see a woman. 

She was older, most likely in her late forties. She was dressed professionally in a crisp and clean pantsuit. She would have looked nice, if her hair wasn’t dyed so blonde and her skin wasn’t so spotted with age spots from tanning in the sun too much. There was also so much makeup caked on her face, she almost looked like a clown. Clint shuddered a little; clowns still freaked him out. Her shirt plunged down to reveal a lot of cleavage. Clint averted his eyes.

“Hi there!” she greeted him with a wide smile. “I’m Gladys Banks, nice to meet you!” Her accent was American. She held her hand out for Clint to shake.

He glanced down at her hand and internally groaned.  _ I just washed my hands _ . Clint put his hands behind his back and gave her a mini bow. “Martin Mahoney.”

She giggled. “Oh, how charming! Where are you from Mr. Mahoney?”

“California,” he answered.

“Oh really?” Gladys’ eyes widened. “Does that mean you surf?”

“Yeah,” Clint lied, “but my dog’s better at it.” Clint grinned for effect.

He suddenly felt the woman’s hand on his knee and his eyes snapped down to see her manicured long red nails. He looked back up at her and she was batting her eyelashes at him.

_ Abort, abort! _ Clint thought.  _ Freaky cougar lady! _

There was a sudden firm grip on his shoulder and he swiftly looked up to see his savior: Natasha. He sighed out loud in relief. “Hey honey!”

She smiled politely at Gladys. “Who’s this, Martin?”

Gladys’ hand retreated as Clint introduced her, “Honey, this is Gladys. Gladys, this is my fiancee, Lotte.”

The cougar woman smiled sweetly at Natasha, her bleached teeth shining.

Natasha held her hand out and the two women shook. “It’s very nice to meet you.” Natasha sat down on Clint’s lap, crossing her legs. “What do you do, Gladys?”

“Oh me?” she asked innocently, perhaps in an attempt to subdue the amount of boasting she would do in the next few seconds. “I’m just a tycoon of world-famous resorts in the Caribbean.”

“That’s wonderful!” Natasha nodded and smiled lovingly at Clint. “You have some influential friends, sweetie!”

“Um, uh...” Clint almost stumbled because of the way Natasha had just looked at him, but he quickly recovered, “I’m just naturally charismatic.” He shot her back a wide grin.

“And you, Miss Lotte? What about you?” Gladys asked.

“Me?” Natasha responded, her hand waving away the question, “please, I’m not that successful.”

“She’s going to be the heir of her family’s multibillion dollar business!” Clint exclaimed. Someone pinched him very hard inside his armpit and he suppressed a yelp. He shot Natasha a glare.

“How wonderful.” Gladys looked at the two and smiled. There was a second of awkward silence. Gladys suddenly stood up. “Well, it was nice meeting you two. See you around!”

When they were sure she left, Natasha left Clint’s side and sat down across from him. “Don’t do that again.” She scowled at him.

“Do what?” He nonchalantly sipped his drink.

“You know what,” Natasha glanced around the room.

Clint coughed, spitting out his drink out. “God, that’s strong. What is that?” Natasha gave him a look and he handed it to her.

“Vodka.”

“Wha - this early in the day?? What kind of business meeting would serve Vodka?” Clint wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“They didn’t serve it. I poured myself some from my own personal flask.” She took a sip and placed the drink back on the table with a  _ clink _ . “You’re a baby.”

“You’re a bully,” he shot back. They shared a quick smile then looked around the room again.

Natasha glanced at a man dressed in a dark gray pinstripe suit. His hair was combed and gelled out of his face, and rectangular glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. “That’s Evan Gadzen,” she murmured to Clint from behind the rim of her glass. “He’s the host of this business meeting.”

“Host? So he was the one that sent out the invitations?”

“Hmm, not exactly.” Natasha shook her head. “He ordered some assistants to invite rich business owners here. That’s why we can be here even though he doesn’t recognize us. I’m guessing he wants to get some wealthy people to invest in his business or something.”

“Ok, cool. So Gadzen runs the place, Ionescu’s a creep, and Gladys is a scary cougar. Gotcha.” Clint’s eyes snapped around the room, looking for anyone acting weirdly.

“Does anyone stand out to you?” Natasha asked after a few minutes.

Clint shrugged. “Besides Ionescu? No. Honestly,” he leaned closer to her and whispered, “any one of them could be Hydra.”

“It’s hard to tell right now,” she responded while sipping her drink. Her red lipstick left a crisp mark on the glass. Clint caught himself staring at the imprint and snapped his eyes back up to scanning the room.

He spotted a long table on the side, laden with light lunch foods. His stomach grumbled. “Hey, N- uh, Lotte? I’m going to get breakfast. Want something?”

“Hmm,” she nodded.

Clint stood up and walked over to the table. By the time he got there, everyone else was already seated and the lights started to dim. He looked around the room, and realized that the presentation was already starting - a man was standing at the front of the room, the white lights focused on him. It was Evan Gadzen. A screen slid down behind him, the sound of a projector whirring to life.

“Welcome wealthy businessmen and women!” Gadzen greeted, holding his glass out as if to toast everyone.

Clint hurriedly piled food onto the clear plastic plate and scurried back to his seat with Natasha. There were other people sitting at the round table with them. A few gave Clint weird looks, but then ignored him and looked back at the man.

Natasha rolled his eyes at him when she saw the pile of food. “Really?” she whispered to him.

“I’m hungry!” he said back, his mouth already full with cheese and crackers. He turned back and looked to the front of the room.

She just smiled at the side of his head, and took a cheese cube from the pile. As she bit into it, Natasha turned her attention back to the host, catching him mid sentence.

“- all know how successful everyone in this room is. In fact,” Gadzen grinned, almost unsettlingly, “I’m sure the total price of everyone in this room is over one billion dollars!”

Clint scoffed as quietly as he could.

His partner swiftly looked around the room. Everyone was attentively  _ listening  _ to the man. But they weren’t  _ looking at  _ him. They were all staring at the blank projected screen behind him. “Clint, something’s not right,” she murmured to him.

“Every single person in this room,” his voice boomed throughout the room, “has accomplished more than most people could even  _ dream _ of!” Natasha noticed how as Gadzen spoke, his eyes swept around the room, taking time to scrutinize each individual before moving onto the next. His eyeline was approaching closer to their table.

“Stare at the screen,” Natasha nudged Clint.

“What?” he muttered, his mouth full again.

“Stop eating and stare. At. The. Screen,” she said through gritted teeth. Natasha turned her head and bore her gaze right in the middle of the blank projector screen behind the man. She made her face go slack.

Clint swallowed his food and stared at the screen just a split-second before the man swept his gaze to their table.

“Every single person here now has the chance to achieve far greater things. The invitation you received to come to this beautiful resort was sent to you for a reason.” Gadzen finished analyzing everyone at Clint and Natasha’s table and moved onto the next table. 

He continued, “Within that fancy invitation was a special gas. You didn’t know it at the time, but from the moment you inhaled it, your brain was programmed to pay attention to one particular image.” He gestured to the blank screen behind him. “This image you see projected behind me is your trigger. Anytime you see it, you will be absolutely and completely under my will.” He grinned. “Welcome to Hydra.”

Clint’s eyes widened. He reached for Natasha’s hand and squeezed it. They sat there, gripping each other’s hand.

This wasn’t a business meeting.

This was a trap.

Gadzen’s eyes suddenly locked onto someone on the far side of the room. He glared. “Guards! Retrieve me that woman.”

A pair of well-built men in uniforms went to the side and restrained a woman. Clint snuck a glance and realized with a start that they were holding Gladys. He squeezed Natasha’s hand again to divert her attention.

Gladys was struggling against their grip as they towed her body up to the front of the room. “Everyone,” the host said, addressing the audience, “this woman is a liar. Look at her!”

Everyone’s heads turned obediently toward Gladys.

Gadzen continued, “She wasn’t staring at the screen, therefore she had  _ not _ received our special invitation.” He leaned closer to her and hissed, “What’s your name?”

“G-Gladys Banks! Oh my goodness, I swear I have no idea what’s going on!” she shook.

“Liar,” he spat. “Put her in the car. We’ll finish up with her after.” One of the guards took a cloth of chloroform out of his pocket and covered Gladys’ mouth. Within seconds, her eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp. The guards dragged her out of the room.

When the door closed, Gadzen turned back with a pleasant smile as though nothing had ever happened. “Everyone, look back at the screen.”

They obeyed. Clint was getting tired of this.

“Your assignments will be mailed to you separately. You will receive them sometime the day after tomorrow. When you see this image on the assignment,” a picture of a happy looking squid appeared on the screen, “you will follow the instructions verbatim. Understood?”

Everyone nodded.

“Wonderful. In 2 minutes, you will forget what happened in here besides the last statement and you will believe that you have just heard the most brilliant and hilarious speech in your life. Goodbye and enjoy your last day of freedom.” He finally stepped off the platform and left the conference room.

In exactly 2 minutes, everyone stopped silently staring at the screen, and starting conversing gaily with each other. A few people at Clint and Natasha’s table shared a laugh at the imaginative speech they just heard.

Natasha let go of Clint’s hand and shot him a look. “Looks like Gladys is undercover too,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” Clint still felt a bit freaked out from the way she had talked to him. “So, because we didn’t get the  _ real _ invitation, we weren’t infected by the gas?”

Natasha shook her head. “I guess not. We’re safe.” She stood up and pulled Clint up with her. “Let’s go back to our room; we need to make a plan.”

On their way out of the conference room, they made their way to the elevator. Inside, Natasha punched the button for their floor. Just before the doors closed, Ionescu slipped in. “Aw come on,” Clint muttered under his breath. He hadn’t even had time to tell Natasha about his encounter with the guy in the bathroom.

Ionescu pressed the button for his floor as Natasha nodded at him politely. “Viorel, nice to see you again.”

He looked at her with a tight-lipped smile. Clint glanced at the side of his forehead. Was that a bead of sweat?

“Ms. North.” He glanced at Clint before addressing Natasha again, “Presumo che parli italiano?” he asked in Italian.  _ I assume you speak Italian? _

Clint squinted. He didn’t know Italian very well. In fact, the only other languages Clint spoke fluently besides English was Spanish and ASL. He wasn’t a language guy. Natasha on the other hand was multilingual.

She smiled at him. “Certo signore.”  _ Of course.  _ “Non sono così male da soli.”  _ You’re not so bad yourself.  _ Her accent was perfect. It had to be; any small distinctions could be the difference between life and death.

Clint felt stupid standing there, only picking up a few words. The Ionescu guy was giving him a weird prickly feeling on the back of his neck; spy’s intuition. Something was going to happen.

The elevator dinged. They were at Ionescu’s floor.

The doors slid open. Ionescu stepped out, then looked back at Natasha. He had an odd look on his face, something Clint couldn’t quite decipher. He looked panicked and a bit anxious, but at the same time malicious. Or maybe Clint was imagining things.

“Spero di rivederti,” Natasha said to Ionescu as he stood outside of the elevator.  _ I hope to see you again _ .

“Anche a me. Arrivederci signora,” he said as the doors closed.  _ Me too. Goodbye madam. _

Clint turned to Natasha and said in a low voice, “He must be evil. Right? He’s  _ everywhere _ we go! I saw him in the bathroom and we had a little stand-off.”

“Stand-off?” Natasha gave Clint a look, smiling at him a little. The doors opened to their floor and they stepped out. 

They walked towards their room.

“Yeah!” Clint retold the story, and when he finished, he gave Natasha a wide-eyed look. “You gotta admit there’s something fishy with that guy.”

She sighed and unlocked their room door with the key card. Natasha swung open the door and they walked inside. “I guess there’s something… odd about him. I don’t know, he  _ is  _ paying particular attention to me. More than if he was just attracted to me.” 

Clint opened the fridge and took out a water bottle. “Come on,  _ every _ guy we meet is like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. He was  _ invited _ to this convention. He can’t be Hydra. All we know is that Gadzen is the official we’re looking for.” She sighed, pulling her flask out of her purse and unscrewing the lid. “The host.”

~~~

The hours passed by quickly. Clint and Natasha spent all of them figuring out their next course of action. How would they stop Gadzen without harming the innocent businessmen and woman? Whatever they did, they had to do it soon, since the instructions would be sent out after tomorrow. They literally had one day to stop Gadzen. The partners were currently trying to hack into the hotel database to find Gadzen’s hotel room.

Clint suddenly blinked, realizing the sun had set. “Yo, Nat, it’s nighttime.”

She glanced up and looked around the room. “Oh.” Natasha sighed, “Ok, just let me finish this.” She squinted at the screen, the green letters on black. The keys clacked as she rapidly typed in a few remaining codes.

“This should do it.” She tapped the enter key and suddenly, they were in the hotel’s basic database script.

Clint stood up and stretched, his back cracking. “Augh, I’m gonna get a snack. We’ve been sitting here forever.” He took a beer out of the fridge and glanced at Natasha as he popped the cap.

Her eyes were darting around in the harsh lighting of the computer, her fingers a blur on the keyboard. Clint cracked a smile. “Any luck?” He took a swig of the bottle.

“Yes,” she responded. “I found him. He’s in room 413. That’s on the fourth floor.” She turned off the computer and looked up at Clint. “Ok, so here’s the plan.” Natasha placed her hands on the table, tracing out an imaginary game plan with her finger. “We get some rest and wake up around 1 AM. We break into Gadzen’s room, look around for anything that we might be able to use as an antidote for these hypnotized people, and then… go from there I guess.” She sighed.

“Hmm, not much of a plan, huh?” Clint looked at her.

“No.” Natasha continued to stare at the table, her forehead slightly wrinkled and the corner of her mouth lifted up in concentration.

“Hey, we’ll wing it!” He walked over to her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. But one quick question,” Clint glanced at her, “wouldn’t Gadzen be dozing in his room when we break in?”

Natasha nodded. “I thought about that. Assuming that they brought Gladys away to get some information out of her-”

“You mean, torture her,” Clint interjected.

“Yes,” she continued, “he won’t be in his room tonight.”

Clint sighed. “I feel bad we can’t do anything for Gladys.”

Natasha shrugged. “It happens Clint. We have to figure out this problem first.”

He nodded. “Alright. Let’s go get some sleep.”

The two partners walked into their bedroom, changing out of their uncomfortable clothes. They often did this during missions; one partner on each side of the bed, across from each other. They would undress silently, peeling their cover clothes off like a second skin, feeling completely calm and peaceful. But they both knew what lay ahead of them. This would be their only reprieve for the rest of the mission. After this, it was all business.

The two silently slipped into the mattress and lay on their sides, their backs to each other. Both Clint and Natasha could feel the warmth from their partner emanating through the sheets. It was comforting yet alienating at the same time.

They lay in the dark, listening to the waves and the palm leaves rustling. They knew that if it was too quiet, the only thing they had to focus on was their memories. And going back into those would  _ not _ be good for their sleeping habits.

“Hey Nat?” Clint asked. Natasha felt his low voice rumble through the mattress and up her spine.

“Hmm.”

“What, uh… what happened with you and Bruce?”

Natasha stiffened. “Uh, well-”

Clint turned around to face her, but she was turned the other way. He spoke to the back of her head. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but… we’re best friends. I think I deserve to know.” He paused for a second. “When did it start?”

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut. “It started…” She sighed loudly, her shoulders slumping. “It never started.”

“Huh, whaa?” Clint blinked.

She heaved another sigh. “I noticed Banner was… slipping. He wasn’t doing too well with the others.”

“Whaddya mean?” Clint gasped, “Did someone say something mean to him? I bet it was Thor.”

“No,” Natasha managed to chuckle a little, “no, no, nothing like that. He was just distancing himself from the team. I started to notice this after the Fall and some old SHIELD agents transferred over to Stark Industries. Banner was staying with Stark at the time and I guess with SHIELD falling around him… He felt exposed. Especially because I released those SHIELD files.”

“Nat, don’t blame yourself. You did that for a good reason.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not. Let me get on with my point.”

“Ok, ok.”

She continued, “I knew that that disconnection would damage our team in the long run. If we wanted to be a cohesive team, we obviously needed cohesive  _ teammates _ .”

“And Banner wasn’t,” Clint said. “At least not then.”

“Not really. He felt like a monster, something everyone hated, even the other Avengers. So I reached out and tried to connect to him.”

“I see.” Clint hid the relief in his voice and tried to replace it with a professional tone. If Natasha noticed, she didn’t show it.

“I just guess that connection somehow convoluted into something a little more than platonic. That’s just my default setting when I try to make a man feel comfortable I guess.” She tapped her head and said dryly, “Part of that Red Room programming.”

“Oh,” Clint said. “So everything you said to him… was fake? Did you open up to him at all?”

“Most of it was fake. I mean, the flirting and the romantic feelings weren’t real.” She was quiet for a moment, then turned around. The two were face to face, staring into each other’s eyes silently.

When Natasha finally spoke, she was quiet. “There was this one time when what I said was true.” She pulled the blanket up and gripped it against her chest. “It was at your house.”

“Ok…”

“I told him about… the Red Room Graduation. The operation where they removed my womb.” Her grip tightened.

Clint stayed quiet, staring at Natasha’s face. She wasn’t looking at him.

“How I can’t have… my own children because it was a liability to my  _ job _ .” She took a deep, shaking breath. “How I’m a monster.”

“Nat,” Clint whispered as he took her hands in his, “you are  _ not _ a monster. Just because the Red Room took that away from you, doesn’t mean you’re just an assassin. You’re more than that, I know you are.”

She finally looked up at him and their gazes locked.

They were quiet for a moment, listening to each other’s steady breathing, warming each other’s hands.

Before Natasha could respond, they heard their hotel room door open.

Natasha stiffened. “Clint.”

“Yeah, I know,” he whispered back. “Pretend you’re sleeping.”

She turned around and Clint spooned her, creating their cover image of fiancees. Natasha slid her hand under her pillow, her fingers curling comfortably around the chilled metal of her pistol.

They half-closed their eyes, breathing shallowly, and waiting for their intruder. Whoever it was finally made it into their room. It was hard to see who it was; the lighting was too dark. The intruder started rummaging in their luggages. 

Clint’s hand was wrapped around Natasha’s waist so she slowly moved her hand to lay atop his. She tapped out a quick message in Morse code; “U lite. Me gun.”

It took him awhile to process it, but when he did he tapped “Yes,” onto Natasha’s stomach.

She counted down in Morse code.

Three short taps, two long. “3.”

Two short taps, three long. “2.”

One short tap, four long. “1.”

Simultaneously, Clint whipped over and flicked on the lamp as Natasha whipped out her gun and aimed it at the intruder.

He looked up, wide-eyed and put his hands up.

“I knew it,” Clint breathed out, staring at who was standing before them.

Natasha set her lips in a grim smile, aiming down the sights of her trusty pistol. “Viorel. Lovely to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is THIS??? AN UPDATE?? WHHAAAA 
> 
> Ok i'm so sorry if you were following this story... I'm going to update as much of it as I can on Ao3 for you all!!
> 
> Thank you so so much for all the hits, kudos, and comments!! I LOVE YOUUUU <3 <3
> 
> A personal thank you to @sandra_prensky on Wattpad for translating the English to Italian, I appreciate it so much!! Thanks for reading!!
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


	8. • Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint and Natasha find out Viorel is an A.S.S.

Clint glared at the man standing in front of his and Natasha’s bed.

It was Ionescu.  _ I  _ knew  _ it!  _ Clint mentally fist-pumped.

Ionescu was currently gripping one of Clint’s purple shirts. He had been stopped in the middle of rummaging through Clint’s luggage, but Clint knew there were only cover clothes in there.

Natasha was cool as ever and employed her cover’s Italian accent, “What are you doing in here, Viorel?” She sounded as if they had casually bumped into him in the hallway or something, despite her pistol aimed at his head.

Viorel smiled back anxiously. “Drop the act, ‘Lotte’.” His voice was suddenly different. He no longer had his Romanian accent; he now sounded Australian.

_ Who is this guy?  _ Clint thought, puzzled.

The now-Australian Viorel continued, “I know who you are…” he looked straight at Natasha, “Natalia Romanova from the KGB.”

She stiffened, gripping her pistol even harder. Her knuckles turned white. Natasha slowly got out of bed, advancing towards Viorel. “Who  _ are _ you?” She kept her voice steady, but didn’t realize she had dropped her Italian accent.

Clint rolled his hands into fists. If this guy knew who Natasha was, that was bad news. He followed Natasha’s lead and got off the bed as well, flanking Viorel’s other side.

Ionescu swallowed. Again, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his forehead. Clint guessed that if he had known who Natasha was this whole time, he also knew how infamous she was for her kills. However, instead of addressing Natasha, Viorel turned to Clint. “Did you know that? You’re just a civilian, aren’t you? You’ve just been lured by her beauty and used to her advantage.”

“What?” Clint blurted out, kind of confused.

Natasha filled him in, “He thinks I’m with the KGB and that you’re just some bogey I’m with.” She turned her attention back to Viorel and lowered her voice to a dangerous octave. “Now, Mr. Ionescu. If you think you know who I am, I might just have to kill you. And you know full well I’m capable of it.”

“So identify yourself,” Clint jumped in. “Why are you in our room?”

Viorel’s eyes jumped around, looking for possible ways of escape. He had none. He felt like trapped prey. He sighed, realizing that he had no choice but to blow his cover. “I’m Agent Russell with the Australian Secret Service.”

Natasha shot Clint a look, still refusing to lower her gun.

“Oh yeah?” Clint asked, inching towards “Agent Russell”. “Show me some ID then,  _ mate _ .”

Natasha couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at Clint’s silly joke as she watched Russell’s movements. He slowly pulled out a badge and handed it over to Clint. She glanced at her partner.

Clint examined the badge, turning it over in the light. “It’s legit,” he said, passing it to Natasha. She lowered her pistol and took the badge, looking it over.

When she was satisfied, she handed it back to Russell. “Don’t worry, Agent Russell. I’m actually Agent Romanoff of the CIA,  _ not _ this… KGB person. This is my partner, Agent Barton.”

Clint gave him a mini-salute.  _ Guess I’m actually wrong. What a surprise, _ he grumbled to himself. Clint handed over his and Natasha’s CIA badges. They couldn’t say that they were still with SHIELD since everyone still thought that it was the same thing as Hydra.

Agent Russell looked them over, and sighed with relief. “Oh thank goodness. I really thought you were going to kill me.” He glanced at Natasha sheepishly.

She nodded. “Why did you think I was with the KGB?” Natasha asked cautiously.

“Oh, well, sorry about that.” He laughed and scratched the back of his neck.

Clint decided he liked him better like this.

Agent Russell explained, “All of us agents at the Australian Secret Service are trained to memorize faces from this list of dangerous spies. Natalia Romanova was one of them. I swore you looked just like her, but I guess I was mistaken. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Natasha answered. She didn’t know there was a “wanted” list within the intelligence agencies. Although it made sense that she was on it. Hopefully, the picture they used for her was one of her older pictures. Clint gave her a look that said he was thinking the same thing.

Clint invited the Australian spy out to their dining table to discuss their current mission. At least they had an ally now to help them out.

“So, Agent Russell-” Clint started.

“Oh please, call me Noah.” The Aussie grinned.

“Noah,” Clint continued, “Question 1. Are you really from the Australian Secret Service?”

“Yup!”

“So does that mean you work for… A.S.S…?” Clint snickered.

Noah stared at the archer. “I… never realized.  _ That’s _ why we don’t use an acronym!” 

Clint started giggling, but then Natasha whacked his bicep with the back of her hand. “Ow!” He rubbed his arm.

“Not the time, Clint.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ok fine.” He turned back to Noah. “I’m guessing you were sent here for a Hydra official. Like us.”

“Yeah,” Noah leaned backward, “but then coming here, I realized I’m in much more trouble than I thought I would be in!”

They all nodded.

“Well,” Natasha started, “we had a plan.”

Noah shrugged, “Shoot.”

Clint filled him in. “At 1 AM, we’re planning to break into Gadzen’s room and look for any clues to an antidote. The hypnotized people are our first priority.”

“And Gadzen most likely won’t be in his room,” Natasha jumped in, “because of Gladys.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “Oh. Right.”

Clint glanced at Natasha and turned back to Noah. “Umm, how experienced are you with spying?”

The Australian shuffled in his seat. “Oh, uh, well… this is my second field mission.”

Clint and Natasha stared at Noah. “Oh. Cool,” Clint said, clapping his hands. “Ok dude, don’t worry. Me and Nat have been doing crap like this for a long time. Don’t sweat, kay?”

Noah nodded nervously.

Natasha stood up from the table. “We have an hour to prepare. Get your things and meet us back here, got it Noah?”

Noah nodded fast in response and stood up from his seat. “You got it! I'll go, uh now!” He sped off towards the door.

When they were sure he had left the room, Clint raised an amused eyebrow. “Dude’s a noob.”

“First of all,” Natasha said as she pulled her top over her head while walking back to their bedroom, “don’t say noob.” Her voice came from inside the room.

Clint rolled his eyes. “It fits him though, you can't deny that.”

“True,” her voice replied. “Secondly, is it such a good idea to involve him in this? Is it safe?”

“Whatever. We can't just kick the guy out.” Clint started towards the bedroom door, when Natasha appeared in front of him clad in her entire Black Widow outfit. “How do you change so fast?!” Clint exclaimed.

Natasha sashayed by Clint, smirking as she replied, “Just hurry.”

Clint blinked, then quickly turned around on his heel to stop himself from getting distracted, and went into the bedroom to get his suit.

By the time Clint and Natasha were preparing their weapons, Noah arrived. He was dressed in simple clothes, all black. His belt had a single holster for a pistol and some ammunition. When he saw Clint and Natasha all decked out in their gear, his eyes widened. “Whoa. Wait a second.”

_ He’s gonna recognize us as Avengers,  _ Natasha groaned mentally.

_ He’s gonna recognize us as Avengers!  _ Clint grinned.

“You guys are like, special agents, right? That’s why you have your own suits?” Noah mused.

_ Ugh, didn’t even recognize us. Noob.  _ Clint thought. Aloud, he said, “And code names.” Clint nodded as he and Natasha walked out the main doors. 

Noah followed them meekly. They locked their room door and walked down the hallway towards the stairway. “Uh, what if someone sees us?”

Natasha started down the stairs, her hair bobbing. “It’s 1 AM. Anyone that’s up right now will eventually chalk it up to late night hallucinations.”

The two men followed Natasha down the stairs. They passed the floors; 15, 14, 12, 11, 10… 

“Some good cardio, am I right mates?” Noah huffed.

Clint still couldn’t believe this Aussie used to be an annoying schmuck with a Romanian accent. “Hey Noah? How come you were so good at pretending to be… well, a rude dude named Viorel?”

Noah’s face flushed red. “Oh well, before they inducted me as a field agent, I was a cover-agent.” He rounded the corner and continued jogging down the stairs. “Basically, the agency called me in whenever they needed a small role filled for another undercover mission. I guess I just got good at pretending to be other people,” he shrugged.

“Huh,” Clint answered. His mind wandered to his and Natasha’s origins and how they came about their occupation…  _ much _ differently than Noah’s. Clint’s breaths came short when they finally reached the fourth floor. 

Natasha slowly opened the stairwell door as the three of them tried to regain their normal breathing. “Coast’s clear,” she breathed out, and the two men followed after her.

They moved down the hallway with light footsteps and stopped at Gadzen’s room; 413.

“Ya sure he isn’t in there?” Clint asked dubiously. “What if we open the door and we’re met by a dozen Hydra agents?”

“That won’t happen,” Natasha said simply.

“Knock on wood,” Noah whispered.

Clint pointed to the hotel door. “Not this wood.”

“Stop it.” Natasha pulled out something that looked like an entirely silver credit card. She placed it on the key card sensor above the door handle and glanced over at Clint. “Go.”

“Oh right,” Clint fumbled to open his pocket and pull out his phone, courtesy of Stark Industries. He opened an application that was connected to the silver key card and it started decrypting the lock on the hotel room door.

Noah’s mouth opened in astonishment. “Wow, the CIA’s sure got some nifty tech!”

“Uhh, yeah,” Clint responded, somewhat unconvincingly.

A light  _ beep _ sounded from Clint’s phone, signaling that the decryption was complete. Just a second after, the small light above the door handle turned from red to green. A click was heard as the lock was pulled back.

“We’re in,” Natasha smiled, pushing open the door as quietly as she could.

The room was pitch black: none of the lights were on and the curtains were pulled closed. Noah reached for the light switch when Natasha stopped him. “Don’t. Gadzen might have some eyes on his windows right now,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Noah retracted his hand.

Clint made sure the hotel room door closed before he stepped further into the room. “Let’s just hurry and get out of here,” he hissed. Clint didn’t like it in here. It gave him a bad vibe. Plus, it smelled.

“Use a low light flashlight and search for anything useful at all, but focus on finding anything related to the brainwashing.” Natasha flicked on a flashlight attached to her utility belt and Clint did the same. Noah didn’t have a special flashlight so he used his phone instead.

The three wandered around different parts of the hotel room. Clint was in the common area while Noah was in the bathroom. Natasha was in Gadzen’s bedroom.

Clint swept his light across the couches and coffee table, but everything was bare. “Any luck for you guys?”

“Nope,” Noah responded.

Natasha didn’t respond.

“Nat?” Clint called out, a bit louder this time. Still, she didn’t answer. His heart sped up a bit as he listened for any sign of her. 

Silence.

Clint equipped his bow with an arrow ready to be notched. He cautiously approached the darkened entrance to Gadzen’s room.

Suddenly, something red emerged from the darkness. Clint raised his bow, aiming down towards the entrance. The figure moved forwards and in the dim light, Clint realized it was just Natasha.

He sighed in relief and lowered his bow. “Nat, geez, you scared m-”. Clint realized too late that her hands were up in the air. As she stepped forward further, a figured dressed in all black tactical gear followed behind her, an automatic gun pressing into Natasha’s back.

“Don’t move or she dies!” the Hydra agent barked at Clint. “Put down your… weapon!” The agent glanced at Clint’s primitive weapon.

Clint glanced at Natasha. They’ve been in situations like this before… it usually ended with them getting captured.

Just before Clint dropped his bow, Noah stepped out from the bathroom. “Hey mates, what’s going-”

The agent panicked and fired multiple shots…

Into Noah’s chest. The Australian agent fell to the ground and suddenly, everything seemed to be in slow motion for them. Natasha tucked and rolled out of the Hydra agent’s aim as Clint notched his arrow and aimed for the attacker.

At the same time the Hydra agent charged Clint, stopping him before he could fire his arrow. The two agents tumbled back, past the glass balcony doors, and Clint slammed into the stone railing.

He glanced down at the ground below him. They were really only four floors up, but a fall from there would still do immense damage.

Natasha pulled her gun out and aimed at the agent who was trying to push Clint off the edge, but they were in such a tangle of limbs that she couldn’t risk shooting; what if she hit Clint?

Clint grasped the agent’s arms and turned him so his back would be facing Natasha. “Shoot him!” Clint yelled, struggling to keep a hold on the flailing Hydra agent.  _ Oof this guy is tough, _ he thought, his face turning red with the effort.

Natasha raised her gun, but still she hesitated. Her bullet could possibly go clean through the agent and hit Clint.

Her hesitation cost them. The agent got a sudden burst of strength and finally overpowered Clint, preparing to send him over the edge.

Clint grabbed the Hydra agent by the collar and yelled, “You’re coming with me buddy!”

Together, the enemies toppled over the railing and towards the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this plot might seem to be going nowhere relevant... but trust me, it's getting there! The purpose for these Hawaii chapters was really just to expand upon Clint and Natasha's relationship in-mission. After the Hawaii mission, things will start hyping up... 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading!! Much love!! <3
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


	9. • Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our three spies find themselves in a sticky situation

_ This always happens to me _ , Clint managed to think as he fell. He was used to this. As he was falling in (somewhat) slow motion, he saw Natasha, her head leaned over the railing, her rose colored hair hanging down, and her mouth open in an “O”.

The Hydra agent was still holding onto Clint, screaming into his ear. He would’ve shrugged the guy off if he wasn’t thinking about surviving himself.

Clint reacted instinctively; he notched one of his trusty trick arrows and aimed for a railing on the third floor as he passed it. The arrow sailed over the rail and the tip bursted into a grappling hook. Clint heard the  _ clink _ as the hook latched onto the stone railing. However, Clint forgot to tighten the line attached to the grappling hook and he plummeted towards the ground.

“Crap, crap, craaaap!” Clint yelled as he cycled his legs. The agent’s arms slipped from Clint’s neck and he plummeted towards the ground. The grass came up to meet Clint. He shut his eyes, waiting for the impact, and suddenly, the line pulled taut. His heels touched down and he hit the ground running. Halting in his steps, Clint put pressure down on his ankle the wrong way and pain shot up his leg, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Clint opened his eyes, his hands still gripping the line tightly. He was on solid ground! He threw both hands in the air in success. Turning around, Clint saw the Hydra agent, groaning as he rolled on the grass.

“Sucks for you buddy.” As Clint detached himself from the arrow-grappling hook line, he remembered Natasha was still up in Gadzen’s room… with Noah.

Clint swore as he ran out and looked up the balcony where he last saw Natasha. He refrained from shouting out her name and squinted instead, looking for any sign of her.

Suddenly, her head shot back out, her hair swinging. Natasha glared down at him. 

Clint shrugged.

She signed to him,  _ Bring him up _ . 

Clint looked down at the injured agent, holding onto his side. The Avenger walked over to his enemy, slid a small dart out of his quiver, and with a quick movement, sank the tranquilizer into the man’s neck.

He waited for the agent’s eyes to flutter closed and his breathing to steady before he picked him up and draped his arm across Clint’s shoulder. “Oof,” Clint breathed out at the extra weight and hauled the man towards the back door leading into the hotel.

No one encountered them in the hallway, but Clint still quickened his pace. It would be a little hard to explain why two men dressed in tactical gear and equipped with weapons were walking around the hotel at the early hours of the morning.

They took the elevator up to the fourth floor and just as Clint arrived at Gadzen’s room, Natasha swung the door open. “Noah ok?” Clint asked immediately as he dragged the agent inside. His stomach started to feel sick for his new and young comrade, and mentally prepared himself for the worst…

Natasha closed the door behind him. “Actually…” She motioned to the side.

Clint glanced in the direction and saw Noah, standing and brushing off his jacket. “Hey dude! You’re alright!”

Noah grinned weakly and gave two thumbs up. “Yeah mate, good thing I wore my Kevlar underneath.”

Clint couldn’t resist grinning back as he tossed the agent onto a chair. Natasha uncoiled her wire and tied the agent’s wrists together as her partner removed the Hydra agent’s weapons.

“When he wakes up,” Natasha said, her voice dangerously low, “we’re going to figure out where Gadzen is…”

~~~~~

“That was scary,” Noah breathed out as he slid into the backseat of the car. The Australian gave Natasha a wary look. 

Clint started the engine and backed out of the parking space. “That’s what she’s here for,” he grinned as he accelerated towards the garage opening.

Natasha tied her hair up while looking at her reflection in the side mirror of the passenger side. “It was easy. All I had to do was whip my electric batons out, give him a little show and the Hydra pig squealed all he had. They don’t make them quite like they used to, huh Clint?”

He nodded in response. “Didn’t even touch the dude.”

“But,” Noah interjected, “the look she gave him did most of the work. At least it chilled  _ me  _ to the bone.”

Clint laughed at Noah and Natasha smiled. Her smile wavered as she remembered her on the other side of the table, staring down at pale victims, their faces shifting. So many… Their eyes had flashed out of fear, their screams echoing across the room. Natasha remembered her steel face and strong arm, and her KGB supervisor standing beside her, watching as she tortured her victims for information. 

She thought all of those people she interrogated had been enemies of her country… But perhaps they had done nothing wrong. Her eyes wandered to look out the window, the night lights passing by.

“I’m also glad that Hydra agent had his car keys on him,” Clint remarked. “We didn’t have to hijack a car this time, Nat!” He glanced at Natasha and noticed her staring out the window. “Hey, you ok?” he asked softly.

She turned her head back to him and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine,” Natasha replied, her voice soft.

Clint knew better but left it alone for now. They sped down the highway, per the Hydra agent’s directions.

“Hey guys?” Noah’s voice lifted from the back seat.

“Hm?” Clint glanced at the rookie through the rearview mirror.

“What if that Hydra guy gave us the wrong directions? What if it’s a trap?”

Natasha exchanged glances with Clint. “Well…” she started, “we should be prepared for either situation.”

Noah gulped audibly.

They arrived in the thick of the city minutes later. Regardless of it being around 2 in the morning, there were still a few cars out on the roads. However, after taking a few turns into a dark neighborhood, the streets were deserted. Clint cruised their car down the road steadily, taking his time to follow the correct directions.

“So, what’s the plan?” Noah asked, breaking the silence, as he twiddled his thumbs.

Natasha exhaled. “The priority’s still finding a cure for everyone that’s been… infected with Gadzen’s fumes.”

Looming up ahead, they approached an abandoned factory. Clint parked the car meters away from the factory and as the trio exited the car, they looked up at the fading logo on the side of the building. 

“We’re going to fight Hydra agents,” Clint said, an eyebrow raised, “in some canned pineapple factory?”

Natasha shushed him and motioned them to follow her lead. They got as close to the factory as they could and crouched behind a bush. There were two men strolling outside of a rusty metal door. One was smoking, his tattooed arm rippling with muscles. The other contrasted him greatly, his hair slicked back, and his eyes alert. They both toted automatic rifles.

“Mercenaries,” Clint whispered, his eyes darting around the building. His breath puffed on the back of Natasha’s bare neck and she absently raised her hand to rub the warmed spot.

Her eyes were just as analytical, looking for strategies. “Clint, silent takedown.”

He nodded in understanding and notched one of his arrows, its tip laced with a heavy sedative. Clint waited for the guards to turn their backs to each other before letting the arrow fly towards the tattooed mercenary’s bare arm. At the exact moment, Natasha silently slid out from the bushes and took her position, crouching in the shadows. 

The tip embedded in his arm. The sedative traveled quickly throughout his body and he only managed to let out a strangled cry before crumpling to the dirt.

The other mercenary heard the thump of his crony and turned around. Too late.

Natasha had already jumped into action the second Clint’s arrow sunk into the merc’s skin.

As the remaining mercenary turned around, Natasha jumped at him, kicking the automatic rifle from his grip. Before he could react, the Black Widow wrapped her arm around his neck in a chokehold and squeezed. He struggled, slapping her arm with his, but her hold on him only tightened and he passed out within a few seconds. Standing up quietly, Natasha motioned at Clint.

He waved at Noah to follow him and the two crept towards Natasha. It was silent, the only sound being their breaths.

“No one heard us,” Natasha whispered, dragging one of the mercenaries out of the light and into the shadows. Clint followed her lead and dragged the heavier one beside his comrade. After tying them up, the three agents stood outside of the metal door.

“So, do we just… go in?” Noah asked, his hand straying to his pistol holster.

Clint looked up and down the building. “There’s a faint light coming out through the top floor’s window.” He pointed three floors up. “I bet you that’s where they’re holding Gladys.”

“Let’s take the shortcut then,” Natasha said, gesturing to Clint.

“Wait, what does that mean?” Noah asked skeptically as Clint notched an arrow.

Clint grinned at Noah, “Grapple arrow.” And with that, he let the arrow fly.

~~~~~

Eva’s vision was blurring as the pain came close to overwhelming her. She bit down on her tongue, a tactic she’d used to stay conscious.

_ I’m getting too old for this _ , she thought as she forced her eyes to focus. Her interrogator, Gadzen, was slowly approaching her, wiping his bloody hands off on a towel. “Ms. Gladys Banks,” he barked out her cover name. “Will you talk now? Who. Do. You. Work for?!” Spittle flew from his mouth.

His eyes were dilated, the pupils small and desperate. Eva looked over the man in front of her and scoffed at him. He was obviously inexperienced in a leadership role and was trying to impress his Hydra superiors. 

_ There is no bloody way I’m going to give this guy anything _ . Eva had enough experience. Her pain tolerance was high enough… or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Gadzen growled and with a shout, kicked Eva’s chair over. She fell and her head hit the hard floor. Her ears rang sharply and her vision started to become overcome with black circles, swimming around frantically. Eva refused to show any sign of pain, but it was getting hard not to.

Gadzen stomped over to her and gripped her bleached blond hair, pulling up on it to lift her head slightly off the ground. She glared into his squinted eyes.

“Who told you we would be here, huh?” he asked quietly. “SHIELD?”

Despite her tough act, Eva’s face wavered in confusion. “SHIELD? I thought they were disbanded.”

The Hydra official must have realized her confusion and let go of her hair. He stood up and picked her chair up again. He leaned in, his face inches from hers. “Ok. If you’re not SHIELD then who are you? CIA?”

Eva held back a smile. He was being fooled by her American accent. Of course. Maybe then… she could manipulate him.

She feigned a defeated look, sighing. “Look. I’ll tell you everything if you’ll tell me more about your hypnotizing chemical.”

He laughed, but Eva continued. She added with a sense of wonder, “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it.”  _ That’s a lie _ . 

As expected, Gadzen’s ego was stroked. He beamed. “Yes, it’s a wonder isn’t it? I actually had a hand in producing it.”

“Really? I didn’t take you for the science type.” Eva acted impressed. “How… how long does it last?”

“Well,” Gadzen straightened his posture, “it’s a gas, contained in the envelopes. But because it’s simply a gas, it doesn’t last for too long.” His eyes became unfocused, no longer focusing on Eva as he rambled on, “The longest it stays in the system is 48 hours…” he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “But the effect time is going down the longer we keep the gas out…”

The Hydra guards stationed at the doors exchanged glances. Eva guessed that Gadzen needed a sounding board and it’s been awhile since anyone’s helped him…

_ Maybe…  _ Eva thought,  _ I can actually turn this around.  _ She opened her mouth to say something - something that might change her situation and make her Gadzen’s ally instead - when the glass behind her shattered with an ear-deafening sound.

~~~~~

Clint, Natasha, and Noah swung in through the window Clint had just demolished with a sonic trick arrow, their boots landing on the shards of glass. The three pulled noise-canceling ear plugs out of their ears and quickly set about their plan.

Hawkeye and Black Widow dispatched the guards around the room within seconds. When they were down, Natasha approached Gadzen, dazed and disoriented from the sound, and wrapped her arm around his neck.

Noah ran over to the woman sitting on the chair and started untying her binds. He asked her questions in a soft voice as he lifted her out of the chair. Clint noticed the woman wasn’t as terrified as he thought she would be, but then he shifted his attention to Natasha.

The Black Widow raised her gun to Gadzen’s temple. “What’s the antidote to the gas?”

Gadzen was sweating. “Ok, ok wait wait!” He raised his hands. “I’ll tell you everything! Don’t kill me, please!”

Clint smirked at Gadzen. “Ha, amateur. Let him go Widow, I think we can take this guy.”

Natasha pulled her arm out from under his neck, but before she could realize it, he had sprayed something directly into her nose. It felt like white hot fire, burning as it spread up her nasal cavity, into her throat, eyes, and ears. She started coughing violently, the spray overcoming her other senses. The burning sensation soon reached her head.

“Nat!” Clint yelled and started towards her.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Gadzen grabbed Natasha’s gun from her hand and aimed at her, as he wagged his finger.

Clint froze. “Nat?” he decided to address her instead. He wasn’t sure if she heard him, as she started to swing her head back and forth. The burning sensation in her sinuses was fading as it was replaced by a dull tingling.

Gadzen tilted her chin up and forced her to look at him. “You see me?” he said to her, watching her eyes focus on his face. “Good.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her a picture. Her pupils dilated as it took in the cartoon image glowing before her.

Gadzen stuck out his finger and pointed at the group of spies.

“Kill them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger hehehe... this one's worse than the last one oops
> 
> I'm not sure if you guys like action and fluff, or just more fluff in general so feedback on that would be great! I feel like my plot isn't going anywhere important at the moment, but it will! Don't worry I have plans.
> 
> But again, please don't forget to leave kudos and comment! I appreciate everything that you do to support me and my work :) In terms of feedback, I'd appreciate what you like seeing in my story, what you want more of, what you want less of, if my action is easy to understand or not, or if you'd like more detail - constructive criticism like that :3 Thanks!
> 
> But hey enough of that! I hope this chapter raised your spirits if you were feeling down in the dumps today and don't forget to leave feedback or comments! I love seeing all of them! Thanks again Marvelites, y'all are da best
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


	10. • Franca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the chapter is really freaking long... like really long, so just a warning

Gray eyes snapped over to Clint. He’d seen this look on Natasha before; she was zeroing in on her kill.

“Clint…?” Noah asked, tentatively.

Natasha started stalking towards them. Clint quickly folded his bow up and sheathed it. Clint backed up, his arm outstretched, in a lame attempt to block Noah and the other woman, whom Clint only knew as Gladys. “Stay back, and stay away from her,” he yelled at them.

He was aware of Gadzen slipping out the doors along with his Hydra guards, but Clint had to snap his attention back to his partner.

His divided attention cost him. Natasha whipped out with a kick that Clint barely dodged, her boot heel grazing the tuft of his hair.

Natasha reacted in a split second, raising her other leg to kick him square in the gut. All the air was knocked out of Clint as he doubled over. His partner took the chance to elbow him right between his shoulder blades, knocking him to the floor.

Wincing, Clint opened his eyes to see Natasha walking purposefully towards Noah. “No,” he muttered between gritted teeth, pulling himself to his feet.

He sprinted in Natasha’s direction and jumped into the air in an attempt to tackle her. She turned around at the last second and he plowed into her, slamming them both to the ground and sliding across the floor.

Clint struggled to pin Natasha down. She squirmed under his hold. He could feel her knee under him, moving in an attempt to kick his man-parts.  _ Not happening _ , Clint thought with resolve. 

An image suddenly flashed into his mind; him slashing at Natasha with a knife, with one clear goal of killing her. Again, this distraction cost him.

Natasha managed to shift so that she was in prime position to knee him in the prime target… and with all her power, she did.

Clint groaned and his hold on her weakened. She kicked him aside as he rolled onto the floor, groaning, “Aww nooo…” Through his limited vision, he saw her start towards Noah again, who was helping the woman towards the exit.

“Natalia!” he yelled out, regretting almost instantly for using her real name. “Too scared to finish me off?”

She stopped in her tracks. Turning around slowly, she stared into his eyes.

He felt a chill run up his back. This wasn’t the Nat he knew. Was this Red Room Natalia? As he got back up on his feet, she started running at him as she slid a knife out of her belt.

He swore, forgetting she had that. Its blade glinted in the florescent lights, so much so that Clint could already feel it cutting into his flesh.

“This looks bad,” he murmured as Natasha approached him. His mind started racing as he tried to figure out ways to peacefully subdue Natasha.

No time. She was already in front of him, slashing in a downward arc. He sidestepped, the blade slicing dangerously close to his ear. She slashed horizontally and he jumped back. He heard the tip of the knife graze his suit.

In a heartbeat, she flipped the knife over to her other hand and slashed with it. Clint anticipated the attack and caught her wrist. He twisted it, causing her to grunt in pain and drop the knife. She turned her body in an attempt to hit him with her free hand, but Clint twisted around and pulled her arm behind her back in a painful angle.

He heard her hiss in pain and almost let go of her. Almost. Clint pushed her arm back further and felt her body stiffen. “Tasha, listen to me,” he said into her ear. “It’s me, Clint. Your  _ partner _ . This stupid chemical is  _ weak _ . I know you can fight it. So wake.  _ Up. _ ”

He heard Natasha exhale his name in a sharp burst. He let go of her arm and stepped back as she rubbed her twisted shoulder. She turned around, her chest heaving. Her eyes were darting around his face, and Clint could tell she was so  _ close _ to breaking the chemical’s control.

She looked almost in pain, fighting against it. Clint felt helpless. “Franca,” she said, loud and clear, before starting to run at him again.

Clint immediately understood and reached into his quiver to pull out a special arrow. Anyone listening would probably think she was crazy, but Clint understood. Natasha had taken her few moments of control to mention one of their missions, Franca, in Brazil. “Ok, you asked for it,” Clint muttered as she jumped into the air towards him.

Clint pressed the slim button on his trick arrow and threw it towards Natasha. He rolled out of the way just as the arrowhead burst into a disc and stuck onto her stomach. Arcs of electricity spread like spiderwebs from the disc and Natasha cried out in pain as she crumpled to the ground and convulsed.

After recovering from his roll, Clint immediately ran towards Natasha. He waited for the electricity to subdue and her convulsions to die down before he touched her. He knelt down and pulled the small disc off her torso, tossing it aside. Clint then put his hand under her head and propped her up to look at him.

“Hey, Nat? Natasha? You ok?” he became frantic.

Her eyes rolled around before focusing on his face. She managed a weak smile. “Glad you… remembered Franca.”

Clint chuckled in relief and on an impulse, drew her head towards his neck in an embrace. “Of course I remember Franca. How could anyone ever forget the sting of your Widow’s Bite?”

Natasha felt his voice rumble through his neck muscles. She could smell their sweat mingling together. “Told you it was a good idea to turn my Widow’s Bite into a trick arrow,” she responded into his neck and he laughed. She didn’t want to get up from this position. But she knew they had business to do.

She pulled away from his hold and stood up, rolling her neck. “Ouch.” Natasha offered her hand to Clint and pulled him up.

“Noah and that other lady must be outside,” Clint said, walking towards the exit. Natasha followed him.

The partners ran down the stairs to the main exit, their footsteps echoing throughout the empty warehouse.

“Seems like the Hydra agents bolted,” Natasha mused as they stepped outside.

Noah was only a few feet away, talking to the woman they’d rescued before he noticed Clint and Natasha. His face broke into a relieved grin and he jogged towards them. “I thought you were goners for sure! I’m so glad you’re ok!”

Clint patted him on the back. “Thanks man, glad you got out ok too.”

Natasha eyed the woman, Gladys, who started walking towards them. “Is that Gladys Banks?”

Noah opened his mouth to answer before the woman cut him off. “I’m Agent Eva Doyle with MI6,” she snapped in a British accent. “And everything was going fine until you bloody Yanks stuck your nose in  _ my _ business!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” Clint retorted, staring at Eva. Natasha glanced at him, not expecting him to be so suddenly worked up. In fact, out of everyone she knew, she thought Clint would be the  _ least  _ affected.

Eva glared at Clint. "I had it completely under control! If you bloody CIA agents didn't come here in the first place and mucked it all up, I could have become a double agent!"

Clint gritted his teeth. "Well,  _ sorry _ for rescuing you, but I think if we hadn't come, you'd be dead."

"Oh please," she scoffed, "I'd be fine. I've had years of experience that you can't even  _ match _ , you amateur." She stepped up and got in Clint's face. "I'm sure that your partner," she gestured to Natasha, "would not have to go through this if either of you knew what you were doing." She pointed a finger accusingly at Clint.

His eyes snapped into a clear blue and he slapped her hand away, startling her. His voice dropped dangerously. "Don't you _ dare _ say you have more experience than me. You don't know the kind of hell I've been through. And don't you even  _ begin  _ to assume what my partner's been through either. You don't get that kind of luxury."

Noah's eyes widened. He didn't take Clint for the type to snap like that. Noah stared at Clint's face, his veins throbbing and his muscles flexed.

Clint continued, "If you claim to have  _ sooo _ many years of experience, then why did you get caught back at the breakfast, huh? Why didn't you realize that there was some kind of hypnotizing stuff going down? My partner realized it. And guess what," Clint whipped his hand back to point at Noah, "this guy realized it too and he's only been a field agent for 2 missions. So I suggest you shut your big arrogant mouth, and either work with us or not."

Eva scoffed, but didn’t reply, looking away.

Natasha reached out and pushed Clint back, her hand on his chest. She looked at him, “Clint, relax.”

He took a few deep breaths before looking down at Natasha. His blue eyes softened. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Clint said.

Natasha then turned to Eva. “Agent Doyle,” she addressed her, “we have no choice but to work together right now. We have to go after Gadzen and stop him from distributing the chemicals. We all have one goal, ok? After we get that done, we don’t have to see each other ever again.”

Agent Doyle huffed out and put her hands on her hips. “Right, fine.” She pointed down the road. “They went off in that direction. That’s the only lead we’ve got right now.”

Natasha nodded and waved them towards their car. The agents piled in, Natasha behind the wheel with Clint riding shotgun. She drove off down the road per Eva’s instructions.

“Any idea where they’re going?” Noah asked as he stared out the window.

“I can’t see a bloody thing,” Eva muttered.

Natasha tightened her lips, but chose not to respond.

Soon, they arrived at a pier. Natasha pulled their car into a parking space and turned off the engine. Only the dim lights of the streetlamps illuminated their vision.

“That’s their car,” Eva pointed to a black van parked nearby.

The four exited the car, and looked around. Clint scoffed, “Of course, the bad guys  _ had  _ to have the black van.” Natasha left the group and walked towards the van with Clint close behind.

“Where did they go?” Noah asked. His eyes widened and his voice dropped to a whisper. “What if… they’re here right now?” He looked around, “What if they’re watching us?”

Natasha rounded the other side of the van and shook her head. “This parking lot is bare, so the only place they could hide is behind this van or inside it. Both are empty.”

Clint stepped towards the edge of the pier and looked into the water. He shifted his gaze to the horizon. “There,” he said, pointing into the distance. “They must have taken that ship. It’s not so far out so they couldn’t have left long ago.”

Eva squinted in the direction Clint had pointed in. “What are you talking about? I don’t see a ship.”

Natasha came up besides Clint. “No, he’s right. He has good vision.” She looked around the pier, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Ok so…” Noah shrugged, “There’s not much we can do.”

Clint shook his head. “We have to take the ship. There’s no choice. If Hydra has the key to a chemical that can temporarily  _ control _ people, who knows what else they can do. We have to stop them.”

Eva sighed. “Unfortunately, I have to agree with the oaf.”

Clint gave her a look. “Gee, thanks.” She ignored him.

“The problem is,” the Brit looked around, “how do we catch up? And even if we do, there’s only four of us. We can’t take on an entire ship of agents.”

Natasha crossed her arms and stared into the water. “We  _ are _ spies, aren’t we? It’s our job to take out people quietly. Additionally, we don’t have to take the  _ entire  _ ship. We need to eliminate Gadzen and then destroy anything related to the gas.”

“Eliminate?” Noah repeated.

“I mean subdue,” Natasha quickly covered. “We just need to take him in.”

Eva raised an eyebrow. “And who exactly will do that? I’m from MI6, he’s from Australia, and you two are from the CIA.”

“We’ll take him,” Clint offered. He knew SHIELD would find Gadzen useful, but he didn’t want to blow his cover. “There’s two of us so it’ll be easier to handle Gadzen on the ride back,” he reasoned.

“Hmm, alright.” Eva nodded, “Now let’s find a way to get out to the ship. We don’t have long.” The four scoured the pier for something fast they could ride out to sea, preferably a speedboat. But there was nothing in sight. The docks were empty.

Clint was getting impatient. He knew with every minute they spent here, the ship got further away. He walked over to what looked like a large shed on the pier and tugged on the chain and lock. “Natasha, can you come open this lock? I think there might be something in here.”

She came over and pulled her gun out of its holster. “Step back,” Natasha told Clint as she aimed down the sights. When he was out of range, Natasha pulled the trigger and the lock fell off.

“Bloody hell!” Noah exclaimed, running over to see what they had just done.

Clint stared at the inside of the shed and grinned. “Perfect.”

~~~~~~

The sea spray flung into Clint’s eyes as they zipped across the crystal blue ocean on their jet ski, causing him to jerk the handlebars to the right. Natasha had been sitting behind him gripping the seat, but when the vehicle suddenly jerked, she wrapped her arms around Clint’s torso. Her arms fit comfortably around his taut stomach as she pulled herself closer to him. “Jesus, Clint,” she said, as he veered back on course.

“Sorry, it’s been awhile,” he replied, looking over his shoulder at Natasha. “You should hang on, Tasha.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t let go. “If you’re going to drive like that, then I  _ will _ hold on.” Natasha tightened her hold and heard Clint gasp.

“Ok, ok, I get it!” he wheezed. Natasha loosened her hold with a smile. “How are the others?” he asked her.

Natasha turned around and saw Eva and Noah on their own jet skis, about 10 feet away from them. “Good,” she replied, turning back around. Her eyes scanned ahead and spotted the ship they were soon approaching.

Her partner slowed the jet ski down to a slow bounce along the waves as it neared the side of the ship. They heard the purr of Eva’s and Noah’s jet skis soften as they arrived beside them.

“Alright we’re here, now what?” Agent Doyle said, as they all looked up at the ship. It wasn’t a huge ship; judging from the size, it only had two main floors and maybe one more below deck. Hopefully, the ship wasn’t filled to the brim with people, because if so, they would have a larger problem on their hands.

Clint looked around the side of the ship until he spotted something. “There,” he pointed, “we can climb up those ladders.”

The group steered their jet skis ahead until it lined up with the ladder.

“Rusty,” Noah mused, staring at the rungs. Natasha took the lead, leaping off her seat and latching onto the ladder. 

“Go on ahead,” Clint motioned the others to follow Natasha. “I’ll be behind you.”

As Eva and Noah balanced on the bobbing jet skis to get to the ladder, Clint unrolled some wire and wrapped it around the handles of the three jet skis, attaching them together. He then tied it onto the ladder, as he muttered, “This better hold.”

When he was sure the skis were secure, he jumped onto the ladder and climbed up after Noah. Clint reached the railing of the ship. He peeked over and scanned his surroundings. When he was sure the coast was clear, he swung his legs over and scurried towards his group, huddled below the shadows of some stairs.

“W-what’s the plan now?” Noah whispered, glancing around as he gnawed on his glove. 

Natasha opened her mouth to talk, but suddenly there were muffled voices from above, followed by the metallic clanging of boots on stairs. The four of them scuttled backwards into the shadows.  _ Kind of like crabs _ , Clint thought, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from laughing.

“...on with the plan?” one of the voices said. Through the steps of the stairs, they could see two Hydra goons descending. They paused at the bottom of the stairs, the one that just spoke resting his hands on his hips.

“I dunno,” the other shrugged. “Gadzen doesn’t want us bothering him up there.”

Natasha took account of the guns resting in their hip holsters.

His friend sighed loudly and leaned in, whispering, “He’s so uptight! Why’s he so sensitive about everything?”

“If this chemical leaks out, it’s lost for good.”

“He doesn’t have any backups to the formulas?”

“Only the raw formula, which is extremely faulty. Remember what happened to Juan?”

The man shuddered. “I don’t want to.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

The spies waited until the Hydra agents were far out of earshot before speaking again. “So? Our plan?” Eva prodded, her eyes flicking around the deck.

“Let’s split up,” Clint said. “You two,” he gestured to Eva and Noah, “can go find a way to destroy any information on the gas.”

“Boss me around, why don’tcha?” Eva muttered under her breath.

“We will look for Gadzen and try to get him off this ship,” the Black Widow finished. “We’ll meet at the jet skis.” Natasha took something out of her ear, shaking her head to untangle the small device from her hair. She handed it to Noah. “Take my comm. You can use it to keep in touch with us.”

Noah slowly took it, gingerly turning the small black rubber device that looked like a chopped off earbud in his hands. He took care not to drop it as he placed it in his ear. “How, uh, how does it work?”

Clint pointed to his own ear where his comm currently lay. “Tap the outside of it to turn it on. Tap it again to turn it off. Whatever you say, I can hear and vice versa.” He gave a curt nod. “Ready?”

The other agents nodded and they took that as their goodbye. The two groups separated in different directions, Eva and Noah leaving the staircase to venture the floor deck, and Clint and Natasha took the stairs to the smaller upper deck.

Upon reaching it, they saw a cabin and inside, Gadzen was sitting by the controls of the ship. His face was red as he listened intently to his phone.

Clint looked at Natasha. “Think he’s calling for backup?”

She peeked into the windows then turned back to her partner. “No. I think he’s reporting to his superior… and he’s probably being lectured right now.”

“Makes sense.” Hawkeye adjusted his quiver strap. “He still has your pistol.”

“I know.”

He opened a latch on his belt and pulled his own pistol out, handing it to her. “Ok Widow, whaddya say we give this guy what he deserves?” 

He thought back to what happened in the pineapple factory, right before Gadzen sprayed Natasha.  _ “Ha, amateur. Let him go Widow, I think we can take this guy,” _ he had said. Clint swallowed down his guilt - there was no time for that. Out loud, he continued, “And this time, he  _ doesn’t _ get the jump on us.”

Natasha nodded. “Of course.”

The two moved to the door and Clint splayed his arm across its smooth, cool metal.

They listened to the murmur of Gadzen’s one-sided conversation, and waited until they heard him hang up. 

Clint looked at Natasha, and together they silently counted down. 

He pushed open the door, and saw Natasha rush in, a blur of black and red. Clint followed soon after, his last tranq arrow nocked.

Inside, Natasha had Gadzen in a tight chokehold. One of her hands held Clint’s pistol, held up against Gadzen’s temple. The other gripped her gun that she had disarmed Gadzen of just before. 

The Hydra official opened his mouth to yell, but before he had a chance to, Clint’s tranquilizer arrow embedded itself in his torso, and the man was asleep like a baby. 

The Black Widow let go of him, and he slid to the floor. She handed Clint his gun back. “Don't want to question him?” she raised an eyebrow. 

“I don't want to give him another chance,” Clint scowled at the man. He yanked his arrow out and stuffed it back in his quiver. Wrapping his hands around Gadzen’s armpits, he hauled the man to his feet. “SHIELD can question him later.”

Natasha nodded. “Alright, Hawkeye.” She noticed the way Clint’s shoulders were squared, and his lips were set in a tight line. She didn't push him, even though she wanted to get information from Gadzen personally. 

Or maybe she just wanted revenge.

Clint started for the exit, but Natasha laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “We need to look around for any useful information,” she said.

Clint glanced around the cabin and at the various papers scattered on the tables. “Hurry.”

His partner nodded, pulling her phone out from its case on her belt. As she snapped quick pictures of the docs, Natasha’s mind wandered back to her partner, standing just a foot away from her. Back when they had first confronted Gadzen in the pineapple factory, Clint had told her to loosen her grip around Gadzen’s neck. She knew that that had given the Hydra scum a chance to spray her with his mind-controlling chemical. 

Clint probably felt like it was his fault. Natasha snapped a picture of a labeled map. He and Natasha carried their guilt in similar ways; quietly and to themselves. It wasn’t until they became closer partners that they shared the weight of each other's red ledgers. Natasha was fully aware that hers was redder than his, but she also knew it was never a contest.

 

She flashbacked to one of their first missions. It was their fourth op, and at this point they were already known as Strike Team Delta. Natasha was on the ground, tailing a target while Clint was somewhere up high. She knew he had his eyes on her, but she still didn’t trust him to have her back. Even though this was their  _ fourth _ target-tailing mission, she didn’t have any faith in him.

Even worse, his rambling in her ear was distracting her, so she was tuning him out.

“Romanoooof,” he had sung, “are you ignoring me?”

She rolled her hands into fists. “Barton, if you do not shut up, I am going to have your  _ head _ ,” she said through gritted teeth, quiet enough for the pedestrians to ignore, but harsh enough to sound intimidating. She knew that tone of voice would’ve scared any normal STRIKE agent. But not Clint.

He knew what she had looked like that night in Russia. He knew what he had seen in her eyes.

And for some reason, she was always subtly softer with Clint. It was probably because he had saved her, she told herself.

Natasha had blinked, realizing that her target was no longer in front of her. She cursed in Russian and spun around. “Barton, I lost him. Because of  _ you _ .”

“He’s in the alley to your right, head in there,” he had responded with a sharp intake of breath. She knew that meant he was pulling back his bow string. 

She turned into the alley, the shadows elongating with the setting sun. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she slowly walked deeper into the alley, waiting and listening.

A soft scuff to her left. A shadow moving towards her.

Natasha spun with a kick, but the shadow was faster. It stabbed her through her coat, the cool metal piercing the soft skin above the right side of her hip.

Her legs crumpled with the pain. On the ground, she lifted her hand to pull out her gun when an arrow sprouted out the side of the man’s neck. He gurgled, and fell to the ground.

“Oh god, oh god,” she heard her partner through her comm, his syllables uttered with sharp breaths. “Natasha, I’m coming!” Her vision had started to turn black, and she felt lightheaded. “We need an extraction, now!” Clint barked.

She heard the static and reply of a SHIELD operative on the other line, before she blacked out, thinking,  _ That’s the first time he called me Natasha. _

When she had woken up, she was in the SHIELD infirmary. There was a dull pain in her side. Clint was slouched in a chair next to her bed, still in all his tactical gear. “Barton,” she managed to say, and he woke up with a start, his blue eyes wide.

“Hey, oh my god, you’re awake,” he exhaled breathlessly and pulled his chair closer, its legs screeching against the floor. “How’re you feeling?”

“I have felt better.”

“Listen, I am so sorry for what happened,” he stammered. “That was totally and entirely my fault, I shouldn’t have been an idiot, I saw him right before he stabbed you, and-and, I should’ve shot him, but I didn’t react fast enough,” Clint rambled.

“It’s fine.” Natasha blinked. She had definitely meant to say, “ _ Yes, it was your fault and you are a moron _ ,” didn’t she?

He blinked. “ _ No _ , it’s  _ not  _ fine.” He sighed and wrung his hands. “When I got down to the alley, you were so still. You were so pale and your skin was so cold. And the blood from the wound wouldn’t stop coming, I wasn’t sure if you were gone or not.”

She shrugged. “I have made it through worse.”

His eyes had snapped up to hers. “Yeah,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, ok.” Since then, he's always had her back, without fail, no matter how sideways things got. 

 

She had thought that maybe Clint was just guilty because he screwed up their op. They weren’t supposed to kill the target after all, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.

But maybe a few weeks after that, they were practicing in the firing range. Their handler, Agent Coulson, was setting up targets for them to shoot at. He had just straightened a target for Clint, but before Coulson could give him the thumbs-up, Clint impatiently fired 3 shots right in the bulls-eye.

Coulson had been standing too close, and the shrapnel from the wooden target had flown off and embedded themselves into the skin on Coulson’s face, where it wasn’t protected from his goggles. Natasha was standing next to Clint as this happened, and she remembered Coulson clutching his face. 

“Coulson, Jesus! Sorry!” Clint had exclaimed, and vaulted over the protective barrier. He had sprinted towards Coulson, asking over and over, “Can you see, can you hear?”

Coulson was alright, and it was just a stupid accident.

But Natasha had realized that Clint felt guilty.  _ A lot _ . Back then, she hadn’t known the underlying causes as to why he felt guilt so easily and its strong ties to his childhood. She used to think it was because he was just a walking mess. But she soon discovered he was much more than that.

Her finger automatically snapped a photo of the last document. Natasha realized that she had already taken pictures of all the valuable papers, and as her mind shifted out of the past and into the present, she slipped her phone back into her belt.

“All set, Widow? I don’t think the drugs in my tranq arrow are going to last any longer,” her partner said, adjusting the way Gadzen’s weight was leaning on him.

She looked at Clint’s face, noticing the way the lines in his skin seemed deeper. “Yeah, let’s go.” She resolved that she’d talk to him later.

Natasha led the way out, her guns raised. Clint lumbered after her and onto the steel walkway of the upper deck.

Suddenly, Noah’s voice yelled into Clint’s ear through the comm. “Get to the jet skis! NOW!”

Clint winced and asked, “What, why? What’s going on?” He ushered Natasha down the stairs.

“We’re gonna blow this ship!”

“What!?”

“Agent Doyle thought it was best!” Noah answered.

Hawkeye cursed, and told Widow about what Noah just said.

“Let’s just get off of this ship, and we’ll deal with Doyle later,” she said.

Clint followed her to the side of the ship where the ladder led down to their three jet skis, still secured.

As Natasha climbed down, Clint heard Eva and Noah approach. He motioned for them to descend before him. Alarms started blaring throughout the ship. They didn’t have much time.

Clint glanced down at the skis, bobbing in the waves. Eva and Noah were sharing one jet ski now, leaving one more for Clint and his prisoner. “How am I going to get him down there?” he panicked, looking around.

Natasha waved at him, “Just throw him down! Doyle says the ship’s going to blow in just a few minutes!”

“Alright.” Clint shrugged off Gadzen’s arm and positioned the man over the railing. “Sorry, not sorry.” He then proceeded to shove the man off the side of the ship. Looking over, he saw the agent’s body thud onto the remaining unoccupied jet ski and Natasha managed to grab him before he slid off into the dark waves. Clint swung over the railing and quickly descended the ladder. Once he reached the jet ski and started it up, the trio sped away from the ship as quickly as they could, with Gadzen’s unconscious body tied to Clint’s jetski. 

They were almost a mile away from the ship when it exploded, the flames lighting the night sky. The spies slowed their jet skis to a halt and turned to each other.

“Why did you blow up the ship?” Natasha asked Agent Doyle. She kept the exasperation out of her voice.

“It was the quickest way to destroy any data they had on the chemical,” the MI6 agent huffed, crossing her arms.

They watched the flames lick the sky, and the silhouettes of a lifeboat sailing away.

“Looks like some Hydra agents managed to escape,” Noah said as he handed Natasha her comm back.

She thanked Noah and turned back to Eva. “At least Gadzen can’t harm anyone with that chemical anymore.

Clint grabbed Gadzen’s limp hand and waved with it.

“So this is where we part ways?” Eva asked. “What am I going to tell my superiors? I’m going to come back empty-handed.”

Noah glanced back and forth. “I have to agree with her. If you two are taking him,” he gestured to Gadzen, “then what do we have to bring back?”

Clint glanced at Natasha and kept his mouth shut. He didn’t exactly know how to handle this.

“Just tell your superiors we ended up working together, and my partner and I had to take Gadzen because we’re the only ones that can extract him. I’m guessing your extraction plans don’t include an extra person?”

Noah shook his head. Eva didn’t answer.

“I didn’t think so. We’ll mention your names to our superiors and they’ll contact yours. It will work out fine.” Natasha nodded at the agents.

“I suppose so,” Eva said hesitantly. Glancing back at the ship, she said, “I really must be going now. I have to leave in an hour. It was nice… working with you.”

Noah turned to the SHIELD agents. “I’m glad I met up with you two,” his eyes widened, “or else I think I would’ve been toast! The mission turned out to be way worse that it was supposed to be.”

“Glad you could help us, man,” Clint smiled and reached his fist out.

Noah grinned and fistbumped him. “Goodbye Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff. I hope we meet again.” He waved as Eva spun their jet ski back around in the direction of the pier.

“Well,” Clint said, “time to go?”

“Yes,” Natasha nodded, revving up her engine. 

Clint juggled to tie Gadzen to his back, securing him in place before they set off toward the planned extraction point, over the open waters west of the pier.

Natasha pressed a button on her belt, connecting her and Clint's comm to the SHIELD communication server.

"Hi, how can I help you?" It was an agent on the other line.

Natasha relayed to the agent her credentials and her special code word, to which the agent replied curtly, "Status?"

"Agent Romanoff reporting," she said, steering her jet ski to follow Clint. "Operation Honolulu is green, all agents accounted for plus one Hydra official. En route to extraction point 2."

"Extraction will arrive in 0340 hours. Prepare to-"

There was a sudden crackling sound and Natasha winced. 

"What is  _ that _ ?" she heard Clint exclaim.

Suddenly, a woman's familiar voice came on the line and barked, "Barton! Romanoff! Perfect timing, I was just about to call you!"

"Hill?" Clint answered, confusion laced in his voice. "What’s going on?"

They heard something that sounded an awful lot like an explosion on the other line. "We're under attack! Your extraction pilot will bring you to the Los Angeles base, we need all the backup we can get."

"That's where Laura is!" Clint realized. "Is she ok?"

There was a pause before Maria Hill answered, "Just get here and we'll deal with it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking till the end of this really long chapter, I appreciate it!
> 
> I didn't feel much inspiration for this chapter when I was working on it, and it wasn't very... Clintasha-y, if you catch my drift. I tried to drop snippets in of fluff, but this definitely isn't my best chapter. Please let me know what you think and give me feedback, I'd really appreciate it if you took the time to do so!
> 
> I tend to write super long chapters btw so just another forewarning lol
> 
> Thanks so much for all the support!! You're the reason I keep writing!!
> 
> ~ Marvel_Grl :3


End file.
